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The Thoughts of a Used Juice Box

by megsug

Warning: This work has been rated 16+.

"Go to sleep," you beg of him.
and pray as he closes his eyes
that, perhaps, this will be the eternal one.
Oh, you tell yourself it's for him,
that you don't want to see him in pain,
that you want him to have peace.

But he's sucking your life away
like it was in a juice box,
and he's that kid that squeezes
and slurps until there's nothing but
one single drop of purple grape juice
in that unreachable corner.

You hide that idea,
hide that black part of yourself,
the one everyone probably know about,
the one you tell yourself no one knows about.
You've been lying to yourself for seventy goddamn years.
What's another on the pile?

You sit beside him as his breathing,
never calm and easy anymore,
deepens and the only noise in the room
is the puffs of oxygen forced through his nose.
You hold his hand; you smooth his hair.
He always liked to look nice.

What if you go first? you wonder,
What if that last drop
of unnaturally purple juice
soaks through the cardboard
while it waits in the trashcan
before he slips away?

Would one of the kids,
the son down the road,
the daughter two hours away,
would one of them take him in
or would they throw him in a home
to forget about him?

He would die sooner in a home.
He would probably cry.
He would probably be confused more,
and no one would be there to comfort him
except for some washed up nurses
too tired to really care.

You sit there
as you have sat for months
beside him as he sleeps,
life forced down his nose.
No, not grape juice, but clear oxygen.
You hold his hand and straighten his hair.

And you pray,
harder than you have ever prayed,
and, ungrateful wretch that you are,
you pray a lot,
that his drop of grape juice
will soak through before yours.

Of course, his juice box
is in the hands of some psychopathic child,
the one who spears bugs with sharp sticks
alone in that corner of the playground
the teachers can't really see.
He watches the bugs squirm and wriggle.

He cuts the juice box,
greedy for that last drop.
Greedy, but patient.
He'll make sure every jerk lasts
until he can tip the mutilated box up
and guzzle the last bit.

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722 Reviews

Points: 26205
Reviews: 722

Sun Mar 31, 2013 2:48 am
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ShadowVyper wrote a review...

Hey Egs!

Shady here with the attempted review I promised you. :D

As I told you before, this poem made me cry my first time reading it. I wasn't kidding. As a result, I admit, I didn't read it nearly as slowly or as in depth this time-- but...this poem really hits home with me. It makes something deep inside me hurt when I read it.

When you love someone so much it hurts. I get it. Wanting to die first, not wanting to leave the man you love alone-- afraid for what would happen if you left him (in my case, when I go to college).

You managed to hit home with this poem. Though I'm too selfish myself to actually hope this. I just wish and bitterly cling to the shred of hope, that one day he'll be healed, and I can live to be old and have kids myself, before he leaves me.

I'm typically not this honest in a review--rather, this personal with one. Especially not with someone I know. But, this poem deserved my honesty.

Excellent poem.

If you need any more help, you know where to find me.

Keep writing!

~Shady 8)

megsug says...

:) You make me so happy.

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23 Reviews

Points: 270
Reviews: 23

Mon Mar 25, 2013 11:51 pm
littleauthor wrote a review...

This surprised me. I was expecting just another poem, but no. This one really sucked me in. At some points though, I did have to re-read a stanza. I was confused at your word choice at some times. But other wise this poem was sad and graceful and full of beauty.

Keep on writing and thank you for the poem :)

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22 Reviews

Points: 776
Reviews: 22

Mon Mar 25, 2013 11:22 pm
OliviaWhoWrites wrote a review...

Like a previous reviewer said, I was anticipating a humorous poem based on the title. So, it was all the more shocking, when this poem turned out to be very deep and sad. Your juice box metaphor is very well explained throughout the poem, so I commend you on that. Lines 2, 3, and 4 of the fourth stanza don't really seem to flow with the rest of the poem, so you may want to think about rewording or reformatting. Other than that, I think this is a beautiful poem!

Keep up the good work!

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229 Reviews

Points: 11589
Reviews: 229

Mon Mar 25, 2013 9:52 pm
SushiSashimi333 wrote a review...

Wow. When I first saw the title I thought that this was gonna be funny. This was really emotional though, I could feel it. It made me sad, which I think poems are supposed to convey feelings, so if that's what you felt besides angry then it worked. Wonderfully. Your metaphor in the title was explained very well throughout the poem, although at he beginning it kinda confused me. At some points you did have some grammar or spelling mistakes, but I think the whole poem makes up for it. Overall this was a 5 out of 5. And I try not to do that often, I feel melancholy so I can't put my normal peppiness in these words, but this was good.

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60 Reviews

Points: 595
Reviews: 60

Mon Mar 25, 2013 9:08 pm
BrokenSkye wrote a review...

Okay, first thing is first, stanza four first line, it should be "he's" not "his". Stanza nine line three, doesn't flow as well as the other lines, but it has so much power! Other than those two lines, I found nothing wrong with this piece.

I absolutely loved the title, it is what drew me into it. It was unique and made me curious. It fits well, but maybe just "Juice box" would better fit. But that is all your choice. I really loved how you talked about the child having control over the juice box, how he acted and how he was greedy. I think that it symbolized the man's life in the most amazing way. It was not something that I was expecting to see which just made it so much better! Your metaphors? LOVE!

I really loved this piece, and I hope to see more work from you!

megsug says...

Aw. Thank you so much. I appreciate it. Thanks for nitpicks as well. :D

'They are afraid of nothing,' I grumbled, watching their approach through the window. 'Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions.'
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights