Boxes
People are made of boxes.
A check box marks your ethnicity, gender
your who, what, and when, in a box.
The box in your pocket
the ibox, galaxy box, maybe the LG box
holds who you know, what you like, where you've been, and why
the boxes covered in lines
on your desk, on your lap, or in your notebook,
show your efforts in school, your ideas, your story
all, in the box.
My box is of rugged cardboard
filled wth fabric, books, and sketches
covered in paint
or ripped to shreds by the wild beast of a rabbit
my box cannot carry all that it is given
with tears in its skin and breaks on the tape that keeps its artistic insides hidden
my box covers my bedroom floor, wall to wall
the contents remind me who I am
despite the creative binds
who I am
despite missed oppertunity
who I am
despite the failures
The box is not bad, but is easily breached.
People are made of boxes.
Each defining, each different, each treasured
The box may be good
a source of pride, redemption, or joy
The box may be weak
a piece that needs careful, loving, or nuturing hands
Even so,
the box is not bad, but is easily breached.