Cardboard Promise

Generic flakes, the bowl a milky, sad affair.

My spoon just pushes bits around, without a care.

And there it is, again, the back of the box's face,

that same old cartoon character, stuck in time and space.

The faded primary colors, dull from years of light,

the 'Find the Difference!' puzzle, I could solve it in my sleep at night.

I know where every dot belongs, each subtle shift or flaw,

a contest long expired, ignored by cosmic law.

Nutritional values, tiny print, a broken line

for coupons I won't use. This bland, repeated sign

of morning. Empty promises, a cardboard kind of hope.

I've seen this box a thousand times. Still can't escape the scope.