The Box -Written by a 12 year old depression patient.

This is a poem I wrote when I was freshly 12 years old, just diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s not very fine-tuned, as I was only 12 at the time. But it’s fitting, I suppose. And I wanted to share it.


My existence is limited to this glass box,

clear in color, completely transparent.

A window to the outside world.

I see all from this glass box,

but nothing outside can see me.

The world spins, outside my box.

It draws it’s inhabitants into the future.

Into the days that will be.

While I sit in silence,

Inside my box that does not move.

The box is both foe and friend,

Providing safety within,

But exile to the outside world.

It keeps me grounded here,

but to do so it uses chains of the strongest steel.

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