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.