Gift

Gifts are not to be shown
Lest they become possessed by the wandering thieves
Is that not the purpose of it all?
To show your family and acquaintances the object you received
To secretly become higher than they
Or does it stay obsolete to do so?
To only enjoy the celebration before being whisked away by your own pity
Thinking that those lower than yourself deserve it more
Your heart becoming weak, before crumbling
Like the shell of a once gifted rabbit
Staring at you with those dark, beady eyes
Before having it drop to the ground
Its neck snapped
I don’t understand why my parents think it was an accident
He broke like an egg in front of their very eyes
I will not return that gift
I assure all of the doubtful
And furthermore, enjoy your petty objects
To be hidden from the world soon
Such as a chocolate candy, or a flaccid rabbit corpse
Who would want to steal such a thing?