I am...outside of The Box

There is a Box, you know
Don't believe me?
You're probably sitting in it
Do not worry, I am not here to judge
I was once in The Box
It had Four walls
One wall was my Mom
The next was God
Another was Society
The last (and by far the thickest)
Was me
I sat in the box
Watching people walk by
Frowning upon their choices
Glad I was safe in the box
I watched myself
In the mirror
"Make good choices," My mom smiled from my left
"You want to be in heaven," God added, on the right
"Don't be a trouble maker, but don't be boring either."
This was Society, who enjoys screaming most often.
"Don't fail them," I agreed.
But then
Oh but then
Came the music
The unbreakable expression of opinions
Came streaming through the window
It was soft at first
Then, loud
So loud
I couldn't ignore it
So I listened
Listened to the expression
The music's pain
It's suffering
It's anger
It's questions
I began asking questions
Walls don't like to be asked questions
And when asked often, they begin to deteriorate
I found myself outside eventually
The box broken and decayed
One cannot ask questions
And be safe in the box at the same time
I stood from the rubble
I was a Phoenix
As walked away
I noticed
After row
After row
Of boxes
They called me a hippie
Because liberal rights are of the devil
Being supportive of LGBT is a sin
And questioning God leads you to hell
It is okay
I do not blame them
I hope their boxes break one day also
They should open their windows
And listen to the music
It is quite beautiful
It only takes
A soft tune
To open
The Box

This poem is about: 
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741