The Box
I thought my past was normal;
Then I saw what others had.
It was not the same as mine;
Mine was hurtful, mournful, sad.
I wrapped my past in a box,
Tied it tightly with a bow.
“Doesn’t it look so pretty?”
And I put it out for show.
Someone tried to open it;
I said, “No! It looks so nice!
I don’t need to see those things;
Knowledge isn’t worth the price.”
I was so emotional,
I couldn’t accept myself.
Answers could be in the box,
But I put it on a shelf.
Sometimes I take down the box,
And shake it a little bit.
I think I know what’s inside,
Things I refuse to admit.
If I open this wrapped “gift,”
Please hold my hand when I do.
Throw out all it holds inside,
And fill it with thoughts of you.
I’m afraid of what’s inside;
Will it change your love for me?
This box has been a burden,
But its truth might set me free.
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