Spoken word:
Boxes after boxes are stored in my mind,
Each holding a feeling of mine.
Whether it's depression,
Or obsession,
I try to keep them closed.
Though my eyes lay opposed.
To the thought of not peaking,
My hands go seeking.
Within the boxes,
They see the toxins.
They begin to worry,
The emotions scurry.
But it's too late to close it,
And the emotions know it.
From the boxes to my soul,
They take a stroll.
They find my heart,
I fall apart.
They find my brain,
I can't explain,
The thoughts they give me,
I want to flea.
But they call me naïve.
For the thoughts I receive,
they say will relieve the pain.
All I have to do is except that I'm not sane.
They almost had me,
I was almost free;
But someone stopped me,
And began to plea,
For me to step down,
I didn't have to drown.
They could Free me from this cell,
This mental hell.
They showed me,
I could be free,
And alive.
_______________
**please give feed back on this spoken word! I have to present it in my English class on a poster. Let me know if it's good enough!
-Thanks!
