Wonder along with my poetry.

The empty box.

I am this big, empty box.

You can't fill me up with just anything.

Don't just place all these meaningless objects inside of me.

Show me why you chose them.

As you close the emptiness.

You don't see it but you're handing me lots to carry.

Why are you doing this?

Is it too much to handle?

It'll be easier to just throw these worthless pieces away.

But you can't do that.

There's something holding you back making you give the weight away to the one who doesn't worry as mush as you.

Is it a punishment or a test?

What are you trying to prove by letting me feel the heaviness you always felt?

Are you getting weaker is that it?

Are you seeing more strength in me then before?

Is that why you come to me now with all this package?

Are you giving up hoping I'll fix what you've ruined?

Please tell me you aren't seeing a second chance through me.

That's a selfish solution.

And a very odd confusion

To where I finally realized,

I'm not the empty box I?

You never found the right things to place in your box.

So now you're giving me a go at it.

The first thing I'm going to do is get rid of the stupid box.

Because you gotta think outside of the box right?

A bigger place to store things with a beautiful meaning will be in my memory.

Since yours was always empty.

And yet too full of negativity prohibiting the delightful things to help hold you up when you tried picking up such a heavy box that swallowed up the things that hid your happiness and stalked you along with your misery.

So why should I carry this box?

Only a fool feels the pain of another when knowing it can be healed by removing what was blocking the path that it made so difficult to walk on.