“The Box”
I’ve tried to fit in this box time and time again –
My shoulders pressed tightly against its inner walls
Breaths forced in and out of scarred lungs
Legs riddled with cramps, neck trumpet bent
My wings unable to extend –
My heart beating irregularly, conforming to the beat and tempo of others—
My mind synchronized to the thoughts of another day
Puzzled by the comfort others discover in the box
Trespassing the borders of my mind to understand
Exploring the cavities of truth and finding emptiness
The thought of the box haunting my dreams, mocking my future
Why must I conform?
Men sculpting their idea of divine manhood
Scoffing at the notion of individuality—
Guilt compelled placed hair
Polished voices leaking insincerity
Sucking passion from the spirit’s electricity
Do I sin in my wish?
Must I be consigned to the box and spend listless days in its confines?
Right or Wrong
Good or Bad
Right or Left
Surrounded by a society who understand only basic mathematics—
I fly out the box with courage and sip passion through a thick straw
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