In the back of a drawer in my room,
There is a box.
It's unassuming.
Even cute.
It's green and white and has shamrocks all over it.
I think my grandma gave it to me once.
It's unassuming.
Even cute.
But inside the box are the deepest, darkest horrors.
Ones that only the human mind can let loose or cage up.
I loved them,
But oh, did they scare me.
I locked them up long ago.
When another horror catches my eye,
I add it to the box.
Some days, they call to me.
Their allure works its way
Under my skin
Into my veins.
The call has been getting so much stronger.
In the back of a drawer in my room,
There is a box.
Please don't blame me if I open it.
YOU ARE READING
Survive: Collected Poems
Poetry~WATTY'S 2019~ ~NOTICE~ AS OF 2/3/19, THIS COLLECTION HAS TOO MANY PARTS! READ VOLUME 2, THRIVE, OUT TODAY! On the pain, love, and passion that makes me human. Potential swearing, mentions of suicide, self harm, depression, rape, etc.
