The Trunk.
The Trunk that currently encapsulates me.
The Trunk and its inside as black as night.
This Trunk, I have known for the past hour
The darkness allows me to see beyond
The god, the writer, that queer, and more.
These beings, can sense.
Sense me.
They all talked to me, but most felt fake.
The true one "The Poet" driven mad by his sense.
He grabs a paper entitled "The Trunk Ideas" and writes on it.
I see the paper, it's telling my story in the box.
The Poet writes "Trunk is unlocked, driver kills man inside!"
This man can't be serious, he's mad.
I'm laughing at him, as I hear The Trunk opening, and see the glint of a knife
