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by Tyler Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1516338
Let's hope he's not claustrophobic.
I awake in a panic,
confused and shaken,
I open my eyes,
but no difference is apparent.
Laying in a little box

My heart races my mind,
and catches my thoughts,
Where am I? How did I get here?
Can I survive here?
Laying in a little box

My fists stretch for the roof,
and pound on the ceiling,
"Let me out!" I scream,
but my prayers are unanswered.
Laying in a little box

Panic takes over the
whole of my mind
and I scratch at the door
and yell all the time
Laying in a little box

My muscles grow weary
and my voice starts to crack,
so I lay my head back
and start to weep aloud.
Laying in a little box

I give one final shove,
using all of my might
but the door just won't budge.
I'm trapped here inside.
Laying in a little box

But then a thought strikes me
with the force of a ton,
why do I want to leave
the comfort I have.
Laying in my little box

No worries, no trouble,
no nagging, no orders,
no bills to pay
or responsibilities.
Laying in a little box

The air getting thin,
my head finally clear,
I realize what I must do,
what will be my last deed.
Laying in a little box

I straighten my legs
to a point like an arrow
and then grab my shoulders.
I close my eyes and let myself be taken.
Laying in a little box.
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