For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a locket
Which I keep inside a bag, inside a box, inside of my drawer
All shiny and silver, with initials engraved
Carved on its back the date forever saved
It is resting undisturbed, never worn out
Though I try it out from time to time
Put it on by the mirror and wonder to myself
This is who I would be had things stayed the same
I shake my heavy head, unclasp it from my neck
The last piece of you at last is removed
And yes, I do try to forgive
But to this day that locket stays
Inside of a bag, in a box, at the bottom of my drawer

I don't put it on anymore

Good Music and Mad hatter Beats is what you’ll find What you speak is mostly on my mind seek and ill define the Rhymes with witch you'll Find a HITch to Spine a Beast Fill it Fit it and Spit it let be Shine There is a light it’ll blind if you give yourself to the idea of what may not quite Be Mine

How many tears do you think filled the oceans?
Mine threaten to flood the whole of my world;
and when I sit there at the bottom of the ocean
quiet, and too tired to weep,
I won’t feel the grace upon my cheek,
and you won’t see the tear I shed.

We were born with this box.
It keeps contained in the small of us,
yet is infinite; a world all its own.
And how do you fill a box that knows no bounds?

With love.

Love, fills the aching seems,
to the point where we touch the very edge of our universe,
like hands gliding over the surface of water.
The world within us blooms
into a flourishing home;
our soul set free
of a box that felt like a solitary well of confinement;
we find even sometimes, our box overflows.

But take our love away
and pain is found inside us,
blanketing and filling the absence of everything
Love had once touched.

It’s then you ask God,
how many tears filled the ocean?

I had been at the bottom of the ocean
for so long, waiting for the answer,
that I hadn’t noticed I am now floating,
risen to the surface of this new ocean,
laying on the back of my grief,
among the sun and the stars.

swing the magic wand, abracadabra
you appear like waterfall in Sahara

drop a penny into a wishing well
our hands touched and our hearts fell

boxes of questions, nothing seem true
yet when I choose one, I found you

Have you ever asked the question

How do pictures work?

They're just images of fleeting times

But worth a thousand words

I've got a box of thousands

In this box they're  safe at last

They're memories all stored away

Of my childhood and my past

What happened to those people ?

Who were captured for a second

I guess some died and some grew up

At least, that's what I reckon

Sad images and happy ones

Just echos never heard

But memories come flooding back

Each one....a thousand words

That holiday, the fishing trip

A birthday that was fun

Each just a sliver of your life

A time that is now done

Look back and you are younger

All those people still alive

That picture of you at the lake

Where you first learned how to dive

They all sit here inside the box

Not one can be discarded

For each one is a piece of me

Of how my whole life started

There's some I can't remember

Really, more than you should know

And some, well..there's that hairdo

That's just one I'll never show

You look at them and wonder

What possessed me on that day

To take a picture of that place

And now, I could'nt say

Most names are lost to memory

But the faces I recall

I might know who some are in them

But I do not know them all

I wish that as I see them

I could spend more time with them

It would be just something special

To share a moment once again

For now, the box is hidden

In a cupboard, in the back

A box of little snippents

That have made up my lifes track

You look at some and wish

You could always stay that way

But life is not a fairy tale

It isn't Dorian Gray

Best put the pictures back now

Bring them out in years to come

For their story of a thousand words

Must start with only one

Don't throw away one photo

For each one fills in a hole

They're  a picture of your being

And they all make up your soul

It's amazing how a picture

Wakes your mind, gives it a ****

Have you ever really wondered

Juist how do pictures work?

A proud disease indeed forgot its home,
Attacked its cherished shelves;
Inflicting flames upon its tomes.

A child swore to slay the host,
But his ageless mind has grown old,
and shapeless face has new hope.

This world he's always known with costly stones lay burried now beneath the singing strings,
And under the sea within these winding keys,
Leaving my steely prayers opposed!

This world I've always known has tarnished under a toxic pearly gate,
These songs I've come to hold corrupted by this poisoned shape.
As stillness kills, I must escape!

My armless form enclosed,
As my skyward craft arose.

This music box aglow with hate!
Screaming a tune to fix my broken fate!
I am contained.

This music box,
That beat my rocket tame.

I stay in my little box
I originally planned on only using it as a detox
But once inside I was trapped
No my arms weren't strapped
But I still felt kidnapped
So I did have to adapt
And honestly I'm thankful *** my life is no longer chapped
I've learned to be self reliant
An many of u may think that that makes me a defiant
But honestly no one was there when I was crying
when I didn't know how to keep fighting
I needed help and that box was my only guidance
You had one assignment and when I poured my soul out to you what did I receive? Silence
At first the thought of being alone was horrifying
But side by side me and this box we made an alliance
And when I'm inside of this small confinement
There isn't any lying or over trying or self confidence dying or any boohoo crying
..well maybe sometimes
but it's okay because when I sit in this quiet
this silence there isn't any judgment
There isn't any soul crushing
There isn't any unwanted touching
No nudging no punching no Flying Dutchman there's nothing
It's like I was forced upon this dungeon and ended up never wanting to leave
For a while my life was at ease but as it goes on Ive started to crave someone to come live within it with me
How ever it's not an option because I never venture out I never have the guts to flea
Sometimes I'll poke an arm out and feel a cold breeze so back in the box I go
Dreaming of a life I'll never really know
Living in terror of being hit with a crossbow
Fear is a powerful thing
Top reason why I'll never have any offspring
What if they grow to be as corrupted as I?
What if they live in a box so they can never reach the sky?
Fear is the reason id stay up at night and cry
My eyes couldn't really take It
At night they'd constantly spit
So I moved into this box and it's been a perfect fit
But be ware if you decide to come inside ur gonna need a permit

the words
are beads and gems
and hooks and strings

scattered in a box
somewhere in
the softness behind my breastbone

my palms are up to catch the key
whenever it chooses to land

a pandora poised
to make ornaments
from all she uncovers,
all she unleashes