I think I have grown in the shape of a square
That is the shape of my box.
My feet at my chest and my hands in my hair
bound with no keys and no locks.
Inside my box is cramped and tight,
And when I breathe it rattles.
During the daytime I see no light
In here I fight no battles.
My breath is stale and my hair is tangled,
All I know is the dark.
I fear that I am horribly mangled
From living conditions so stark.
I want to get out and see the ocean
For there is a world to see:
The sun and the moon and the stars in motion
All laid out for me.
Being stuck in a box is bad, I believe
For my muscles and my bones
But my body might fall apart if I leave:
This box is all I know.
In here I feel little sorrow or pain
Inside and out I'm numb.
I feel not the wind, nor the cold, nor the rain
In silence, I am dumb.
A terrible ache settles deep in my soul
Past limbs twisted far back
Shut away from the world, I can never be whole:
All that is living, I lack.
"How hateful, how horrid this box is!" I cried
"If I leave now I might get stronger."
Though there's nothing left keeping me trapped here inside
Perhaps I'll stay a bit longer.