June 14, 2004

• The Box

  
  

  she has a broken spirit
  she has a wonded soul
  nothing can fix her
  no tears are shed
  they have all been cried
  only blue pools of despair
  they are bright, sad pools
  she’s so broken
  but still she goes on
  she doesn’t ask for much
  her pleas go unheard
  a little girl
  locked in a room
  with nothing but a box
  the box has been opened
  but now it is closed
  the secrets held within
  are silent again
  she sits in the middle of the room
  holding the box in her hands
  the door is locked
  only a few can enter
  but all who have
  have broken her tiny litte heart
  her eyes stare at the box
  it is quite small
  for all the secrets held within
  she keeps the box safe
  she forever listens
  listens for the knock at the door
  somehow hoping this knock sounds different
  no longer hollow like all the others
  she’s patient in her wait
  she never moves
  her eyes never leave the box
  her broken soul
  and wounded spirit
  keep her there
  there are no windows in this room
  it is white
  plain
  the door is white
  plain
  in her mind’s eye
  colors are splashed all over
  blues pinks oranges reds yellows greens and purples
  her pain is kept in this box
  she wished they all could see
  see her pain and cry with her
  but they don’t care
  she waits
  energy builds inside of her
  tension
  f
  e
  a
  r
  anxiety
  she waits
  f
  e
  a
  r
  she waits
  she throws the box at the door
  a scream
  long
  never ending
  her box is open once again
  her broken spirit
  and wounded soul
  f
  e
  a
  r
  she sits
  calm
  her box is shattered
  forever open
  the scream forever heard
  she cries

  • 11:58 pm
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