Boxed

Who created this box?

Is it You, Lord, who confined me?

I doubt it, though.

‘Coz I know You created the world for me and the rest of humanity.

Then, why do I feel trapped?

Beyond these corners, barely any one could hear my voice.

The walls contain it.

It’s starting to become internal noise.

I dance to my own music.

I cry over my own drama.

I laugh at my own joke.

I lament over my own sorrow.

I rejoice over my own happiness.

I deal with my own inferiority.

I glory over my own achievement.

I struggle with my own insecurity.

Such selfishness it is.

Now and then I thought I caught a glimpse of what’s out there.

But then some things happen and I cower and once again find myself in here.

I want to know what it is like to be in the open and be elsewhere.

In here, it’s secure but lonely.

It’s quiet but deafening.

It’s huge but empty.

I could scream with all my strength, but I’d only hear the echo of my own voice.

Some may hear it but there’s so much more than my droned words.

I feel like I want people to hear me but I don’t even know what I want to say.

I want to understand other people but I can’t even understand myself.

Which leads me to wonder: am I the only one who’s trapped?

Or do we all hide in our own little box?