Going through the dusty old box in the corner of your room.
You find a music box
This music box contains the words of thousands of voices
Voices that told you that you were never good enough
Voices that tell you to give up
These voices made up a song that you hate, yet you still need to listen to it.
You play this music box every night before you go to bed
Hanging on every word like a child hangs onto a promise.
It was hard for you to let go of that music box
Afraid that you won't know who you are
You listened to these words your whole life.
You now need new words to define you
Not this music box.
YOU ARE READING
Maddy grace poetry
شِعرI'm only 17 and have always wanted to write poetry and prose. I will be posting daily collections of my poems.
