Box

Living in a small shelter
Where no one can see me and no one can hear me.
Covered by two cardboard flaps
That make no effort to guard and protect me.
I’m thrown aside to be
Reused and recycled, over and over again.

This is how it all goes;
No one acknowledges me, no one cares about me.
I might as well be a speck of dust
That has collected upon that cardboard box;
A lonely moth
Hiding in the dark crevices of this flimsy packaging.

The world is so big
And my aspiring dreams have shrunken down to size.
I’ll just live on the street
With my four corners and my chapeau;
My four corners being bunched together
And my chapeau being two lowly pieces of composition board.

They toss me over their shoulder like salt
Because it’d be unlucky to hold on to someone like me.
The nearest person is a light year away;
Everything is distant and has exceedingly left my reach.
But, don’t worry, for I live in a box;
A small, small box that has been abandoned in the street.