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Box
Box
I always liked it here,
Yellowish, white walls.
A large window.
And sound of the birds.
Now everything is a drab
Empty and lonely.
A window like a big, black television
It never says nothing
But sometimes it’s looking
Please do something.
Yellowish walls remained as shadows,
Which lurking on me and skinned my sorrows.
And then there is you,
Bright as a star!
Strong and powerful
But as fragile as a broken heart
Like a black hole
Which sucks the substance of life
And same as that yellow wall,
There is no more room to hide.
The walls are still pushing
To get me down on my knees.
And so and you
But I understand and I see.
That feeling of fist,
Stuck in my gut
Doesn’t really matter,
Want I or not.
We are almost there,
Like dust on the wall
Is it the end?
When someone blows it and we fall.
Box is not yours
Box is not mine.
Box doesn’t decide
Where love to find.
Don’t be a furniture,
Of that yellow wall,
Fallow you hart
And find your shadow and your soul.
