The Box I Carry
This box I carry
around everyday.
Tells of who I was-
and who I am today.
17 layers,
the inside is lined-
each one more refined.
Open this box and you shall see,
how my being is defined.
Within lies a dreamer,
a hoper and a flier-
with endearment,
as rare as rainbows of fire.
And a doll of glass,
eyes that shine.
The dust is brushed off-
from time to time.
This Pandora's Box,
let its contents not be shown-
for not all is pretty,
and not all is well known.
First love,
heartache.
A necklace of silver and stone,
has a heartbeat of its own.
Tear drops and stains,
permanent as tattoos-
will remain there.
No matter what I choose.
Who I am,
and who I wish to be-
This box,
is what I carry inside of me.