Boxes

People are made of boxes.

A check box marks your ethnicity, gender

your who, what, and when, in a box.

The box in your pocket

the ibox, galaxy box, maybe the LG box

holds who you know, what you like, where you've been, and why

the boxes covered in lines

on your desk, on your lap, or in your notebook,

show your efforts in school, your ideas, your story

all, in the box.

My box is of rugged cardboard

filled wth fabric, books, and sketches

covered in paint

or ripped to shreds by the wild beast of a rabbit

my box cannot carry all that it is given

with tears in its skin and breaks on the tape that keeps its artistic insides hidden

my box covers my bedroom floor, wall to wall

the contents remind me who I am

despite the creative binds

who I am

despite missed oppertunity

who I am

despite the failures

The box is not bad,  but is easily breached.

People are made of boxes.

Each defining, each different, each treasured

The box may be good

a source of pride, redemption, or joy

The box may be weak

a piece that needs careful, loving, or nuturing hands

Even so,

the box is not bad, but is easily breached.