We are trapped in a box, you and I
Its difficult to breathe, its difficult to move, one step ahead and two steps back.
Its a paper box sometimes, sometimes its steel, sometimes its the glue on our feet. It stops us, it takes our happiness away, it drains, makes us do things that we didn't want to.
We cry in this box, we repent in this box, we rot in it like a rotten fish in a rotten box. The heavens call upon us, it rains, it snows, but the box remains the same.
We tried to get out. We pushed, we screamed. We scratched our nails on its walls, till they bled blue.
Once the door opened, then it closed again and we were stuck again. I told myself, I could just accept it, the rotten box, the darkness, the contraption. I could suffer with it.
But we know, the contraption of the past, the small box gets smaller and smaller. Till you can't fit your soul in it and only the body remains. It rots with the box and then is thrown away into the sea.
Sometimes they point at us and say, don't turn out like them.
Stuck in the past, leaving the present behind, disappointing the future and making your dreams cry.
Don't turn out like us, stuck in the past, in a box. With nothing to eat but your own flesh.
Every supper we eat ourselves a little more. We die when we finish ourselves and burp. The soul? Oh! it was long gone, but we kept on tormenting ourselves we kept on eating our flesh.
In this sardonic box, we lived, we cried, we died.
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Oblivion ✔
PuisiEverything I wanted to say, everything that I couldn't. Just honest feelings from a dishonest person. Oblivion: the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one. . Excerpt from book: She was the one who brought white flowers...
