alone,
forlorn,
it gets louder,
louder,
louder in my quiet box
loud,
too loud it clouds my vision,
so many voices,
yet the box so desolate,
resisting the urge-
the urge to purge myself out of my box,
the box a product of my toil
The box my grave,
my toil,
soil on my grave,
soil on my name,
frozen,
I,
my greatest enemy.
