Living in a world with unopen secrets. Walking around with boxed up feelings. There is no where to escape in the open foreseen world. To let the unopened box free.
Afraid to be judge and shamed for. Yet the box needs to opened. Nobody to help out still they stand with blade in hand to cut not the box, but me. Where else can I be free?
Found a land of paper and ink. Now let's open the box to be free. Expressing my creativity the only which I see fit. Enless amouts of new ideas can flow free.
Now this let's me escape reality. The box can remain open. No pressure here. Oh how good does this feel to finally be free!