I'm just not feeling very 'living' right now. I need to get this out before I implode.
Free verse poem.
There once was a girl wo lived in a box.
She refused to leave for anyone. Not her mother, not her father.
Not even her friends.
So for 12 years in the box she stayed.
It had every thing she needed to be happy, but something was wrong.
Something she needed if she wanted to age on.
People, she thought. It's people I'm missing.
Yet by the time she left the box long behind, it was too late.
The damage of her loniness was already done.
The fear of people had already taken over, and threatened to swallow her.
What she lacked in the box had become unfixable.
She had become a broken, hollow girl.