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?