Boxed In

Only one line drawn
The picture left unfinished
The corners slightly torn
I screwed it up so tightly and placed it inside the little box
You can shake and shake
You wont discover anything
What lies inside
You will never find

Everyone comes along once in a while
They look at the box with destain
Then pack it into their own box
Whichever they should so desire
They tie a ribbon on it
They'd prefer if it was theirs I'd stay inside

The boxes are all colourless
No pattern
As desolate as the contents
I try to break out but am tightly packed inside
There is no room to move now
To reach for that picture to draw another line

The ink will start to fade soon
Nothing left at all
You may eventually find the correct box
But by then it will mean nothing at all

The End

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