The Gift

Upon your doorstep sat a mortifying piece Tightly
Packaged parcel Wrapped neatly with care Initially
Innocuous but upon a closer glance Wear and much
Depreciation And lacking a return address?
Who could have sent this?
As you bring the box inside and tear away the moldy tape
And twine the gift reveals its grisly image A grotesque
Visage made of bone A human skull No explanation
But with features that are oddly familiar You feel
An eerie sense of dread As you run your fingers along
Its calcified structure Pulling open the jaws only to
Find the teeth match your own Denial
Sets in This cannot be You're still alive
Within your home Was this sent from the future?
Or just some morbid trick?
As you peer into the empty sockets
You can only guess how long until
It's your turn to be the one on the inside looking out?