It was a smooth black box
With my initials embossed in gold on top.
Curiosity spoke to me.
I heard its voice,
"Open me."
The hinge creaked as
I raised the lid and saw
Nothing
But smooth black walls.
I leaned over it to look more carefully
And noticed the faint imprint of a golden swirl,
A fingerprint,
On the bottom.
I hesitantly reached out,
Pressed my finger against it,
And felt an instant shock
That caused me to
Instinctively **** back
But I was too late.
The world around me started spinning,
And I was
Falling
Somehow
Into the box.
Swallowed whole,
I crashed against the smooth bottom,
Surrounded by walls designed
To keep its occupant
Trapped,
Unable to climb out.
The box had an agenda,
And I was
Never
Leaving.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 5:33 AM UTC
It was a smooth black box
With my initials embossed in gold on top.
Curiosity spoke to me.
I heard its voice,
"Open me."
The hinge creaked as
I raised the lid and saw
Nothing
But smooth black walls.
I leaned over it to look more carefully
And noticed the faint imprint of a golden swirl,
A fingerprint,
On the bottom.
I hesitantly reached out,
Pressed my finger against it,
And felt an instant shock
That caused me to
Instinctively **** back
But I was too late.
The world around me started spinning,
And I was
Falling
Somehow
Into the box.
Swallowed whole,
I crashed against the smooth bottom,
Surrounded by walls designed
To keep its occupant
Trapped,
Unable to climb out.
The box had an agenda,
And I was
Never
Leaving.
Sometimes the price paid when searching for answers is too heavy a cost, but it's too late to go back and not look. "The Agenda" is about my struggle to find answers to questions I have about my childhood abuse and the price I've paid for looking.
