I am...outside of The Box

There is a Box, you know
Don't believe me?
You're probably sitting in it
Do not worry, I am not here to judge
I was once in The Box
It had Four walls
One wall was my Mom
The next was God
Another was Society
The last (and by far the thickest)
Was me
I sat in the box
Watching people walk by
Frowning upon their choices
Glad I was safe in the box
I watched myself
In the mirror
"Make good choices," My mom smiled from my left
"You want to be in heaven," God added, on the right
"Don't be a trouble maker, but don't be boring either."
This was Society, who enjoys screaming most often.
"Don't fail them," I agreed.
But then
Oh but then
Came the music
The unbreakable expression of opinions
Came streaming through the window
It was soft at first
Then, loud
So loud
I couldn't ignore it
So I listened
Listened to the expression
The music's pain
It's suffering
It's anger
It's questions
I began asking questions
Walls don't like to be asked questions
And when asked often, they begin to deteriorate
I found myself outside eventually
The box broken and decayed
One cannot ask questions
And be safe in the box at the same time
I stood from the rubble
I was a Phoenix
As walked away
I noticed
After row
After row
Of boxes
They called me a hippie
Because liberal rights are of the devil
Being supportive of LGBT is a sin
And questioning God leads you to hell
It is okay
I do not blame them
I hope their boxes break one day also
They should open their windows
And listen to the music
It is quite beautiful
It only takes
A soft tune
To open
The Box

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741