I am stuck in a box.

I am stuck in a box.

I am not a mime…
I refuse to talk from time to time

I am stuck in this box.

I know, one day I will get out,
but that’s not what this is about.

I am stuck in a box.

I know, this is starting to sound like some PSA,
but I promise it won’t end that way.

I am stuck in this box.

Six sides. Four walls. Ceiling. Floor.
Entry and exit through unlocked door.

“Am I stuck in a box?”

you may ask me, and I will laugh.
for doors and windows don’t hold me back

I am stuck in this box.

Not the walls, not the screens,
not the allure of various machines

I am. Stuck. In a box.

Finally! ‘Why?’ they ask;
better yet, ‘how?’ they ask.

“I am stuck in a box.

It may be of my own making
but when I leave, I’m shaking

I am stuck in my box.”

‘Will you leave?’ they always follow
and always leave me feeling hollow

“I’m stuck in a box.

Check back tomorrow.”
My stomach churned with sorrow.

I’m stuck in a moving box.