It's smaller than I remember

Not that I possessed many things,
though,
it always seemed like everything could fit in here
even the things I scarcely use;
The woolen jumper that scratches my neck,
The mittens, now too small to fit,
The bandanna with a stain or two
Its strange how things get put away to not be seen again
That is what I am now
in this moment.

I must remind myself to air out my cupboard once I get out.
I'm breathing in the stale air my possessions do
It smells of worn wood and detergent
The smell of a home I've always known.

There is a faint rattling
I try and hold my legs together to keep them from shaking
I hate that all I can hear is my short breath
I don't want to move to rub my eyes again.

Silence

A thud.

Nothing

More thuds of weighted boots

Silence again

My legs are cramping now
That recent growth spurt didn't do me good.
My **** knees keeping knocking together
Mama always said I couldn't keep still

Why do I get the feeling
that once I leave my small cupboard
That I won't be the same again?