Poetry: Box

There is this box
at times I find myself in
it is not anything planned
but the lid just opens…and somehow I find myself in

I have had my box
since being a little girl
it called to me…
told me I was bad…but the box would keep me safe

So I would crawl into the box
only to realize that I couldn’t get out
It seemed as if I dragged everyone in there with me
And the box would get larger because I kept feeding it

So now when my box calls me
I realize that it is lonely
but I choose instead to remember the truth of who I am
and I stay in the light

But sometimes it catches me off guard
when I have no idea it is coming
and in these moments, I think I will die
alone in my box of perpetual hell

So If I can just remember
that this box is a state of mind
I can learn to hear the calls
and feed it truth instead

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