If I could, I would.
But I won’t.
For I can stay in forever
And never be found out.
And nothing will change.
I know.
It is,
Usually lonely and suffocating inside.
There is,
Company sometimes, of other carcasses:
choking in sequestration.
But it feels safer,
Than outside.
For I hear
voices from beyond.
Confused.
Trying to define me.
(Those who know of this box)
Denying Me.
I get petrified:
“Take your nose
Off my beeswax”
I cloak this cupboard
with rude defiance.
For I’m afraid of stepping out.
In an air free of dampness.
Full of chides. Maybe
I would be cast aside.
I doubt if I will
Survive.
But (maybe) I could.
And, I think I would
For then everything should change.
But let me cast that die later.
Let me think a million times before I decide.
For now,
I reside in this closet.
