The gift of life; a beautifully disguised Pandora’s box.
Along the way, it may become soiled and torn. It may just about loss it’s form.
It may become tarnished …indiscernible, incomprehensible. The crescent bow taunting, memories haunting.
Clenching hands that try to hold it, fumbling fingers that try to mold it.
The gift is not in unwrapping it, the gift is in receiving it…in claiming it, crappy wrapping and all.
**Written in honor of those that get the shi*** end of the stick…