I want you to go deep inside,
Look in that place where you hide.
That room which has been locked away,
Words, Ideas, Truths, and Secrets,
that you refuse to say.

Shelves of boxes labeled with fear,
but not one person comes near.
Only you dare walk alone,
To read the messages of these sins,
never atoned.

They always stay closed though,
Cowardice getting the better,
Never embracing what you have sown.
With nowhere to escape,
Your past builds up,
Pressing against your makeshift caution tape.

Eventually,
the boxes over encumber you,
and become too big for that small room.
So as one would assume,
you move them outside.
No longer has it become a place to hide.

From one space,
to the next,
It becomes your new existence,
No time for play, talk or ***.

All for the fear of opening a box.

No matter who you are,
The boxes are always there,
Like bone deep scars.
They can look different and every way,
but are always still the same.
They never go away,
but with help from others,
Your own mind becomes a safe place to stay.

I still have my boxes to open,
These words are me letting out one right now,
Even though this box is not overly endowed,

More boxes to unveil,
Thoughts that need to be let out some way,
truths that need to be taught.
But I'll get to that one day.