My body, a box lying next to my bed, That I cant throw out,
That I can't make use of,
forbidden secret, no one can touch it,
Not even me,
Like reflection, that I can see, right infront of me,
feels so me but not me at all,
it's not mine. What to put on and what to take off,
What to lather it with and what to shake off,
The choices not mine, only the responsibilities I own, Living is a privilege and it's everything I owe,
To you.
My body is a box, empty.
For you, to fill it, with what you like. No protest no strike
Give in, Give up.
The box over my shoulder,
The box is me,
The box is what I look like, This box is what I see.
Who am I? Well, who do you want me to be?
The box in me, poisons me, a void I cant avoid,
It sucks me in, I'm in the box and it cages me,
So paint it or taint it, or throw it away,
for something not mine- who am I to say?
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