The Box

Sometimes I feel like the world is a box, 

And now it had fit too many, We still try to exist, We still try to live, 

But we’re all trapped, Trapped inside our own little box. 

The voices they keep us in there, The voices become chains, 

For their greedy and selfish words, for their dark whispers pulls us in, 

We are nothing but curious, We are nothing but idiots. 

For day after day, We stay asleep and walk our lives, 

Day after day, we talk to a box and enjoy, 

This is why we never really know someone, 

For all we see is a pretty, bow-tied box.

The box protects sometimes, 

Hides our inner darkness, but engulfs us in its own, 

Reassuring a glimpse of forgotten freedom

This is why we always seek light, this why we're always unsatisfied, 

Because in these four walls, your mind starts to forget,

It starts to regret these closed walls, 

It forgets that we're all humans and not just materials to hurt, 

Not just a brain enclosed in four walls,

But a sorrowful, bleeding heart, ready to forgive and move on. 

I do not like the boxes around me, and they probably do not like me, 

But it would be lonely to walk around without one,

It would be depressing, talking to closed walls, 

So I stay inside mine, protected in my known walls, 

Away from the dangerous, Away from the unknown.