it was just another day of life in this box
I started to think when my turn would come
I had always hoped for a warm cozy sock
But in fact my turn came as a shock
It wasn’t a nose, it wasn’t a toe
I hoped for something comfy, I’d even settle for an elbow
Why not a nice safe place where i wouldn’t get hurt?
Somewhere clean, germ free and away from dirt
A spot that I could stick on and do my thing
I hope it’s not infected, I hope it don’t sting
I can see my new home, it was big and shiny
It was a huge boil on some old dude’s hiney
I had never really written a poem before except back when i was younger. i want to somehow describe the life perspective of a band aid. what a band aid is thinking as it waits it’s turn to be chosen out of the box. its really a game of roulette in their view because they could be going anywhere. a simple little paper cut, or worse like the one in the poem!