MANDALA # 72/1000 

Glass Boxes

We live in glass boxes.
Deep in the ocean.
There is a crack in mine.
The water is coming in.
It is a slow drip at first.
Easy to ignore.
But it is building higher each day.
I’m running out of air.
Everyone is looking at me.
From their perfect glass boxes.
They are watching mine fill.
I’m screaming for help.
But they are just smiling at me.
I’m panicking.
I’m trapped.
A voice. She tells me to relax.
For once I listen.
If they press you against a wall,
turn to water.
And slip through their fingers.
I am swimming free.
But I still need air.
I’m knocking on your glass box.
Will you let me in?
My knuckles are bleeding.
They can’t see me.
I bounce from one to the next.
No one will let me in.
I’m alone.
I’m alone.
I’m alone.

There is a banging in my head.
Screaming and shouting.
Let me in.
The lights turn on.
I am the one in the box.
Shutting everyone out.
How did this happen?
Was I in this box the whole time?
I was confused. I was distorted
I was knocking on memories.
They are here for me in reality.


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