Today's composition 'Leaving Platform One' reminded me of a piece written a few years ago. I have re-edited it to accommodate my changes in writing style:

 

In a Box

 

In a box with rusty padlocks,

In a corner of my head,

Are broken toys of childhood,

Laid to rest in premature separation.

Drowned emotions and strangled feelings,

Together dressed in black,

Are shadows of an inquisitive soul,

That might have been set free,

Were it not for a box with rusty padlocks,

In a corner of my head.

 

Keys, once close- guarded,

On gaolers’ rattling chains,

Now hidden in recesses,

Beyond mind’s reach,

But heard and heard again.

Neither ‘pick nor ‘smith,

Could shift such corroded levers.

No release from this life suspended,

In solitary confinement,

Locked in and forgotten.

 

Shameless, remorseless persecution.

Fuelled by ignorant fear.

Intimidation and violence,

Mere tools of convenience.

Product of a stolen innocence,

This lifeless shell,

Animated only by necessity.

Unable to expose myself,

Even to my own self.

 

Scratched and dented,

Unbroken by logic or reason.

A gift from two strangers.

Chinese puzzle in a Christmas stocking,

Unresolved and unwanted.

Hidden from view,

Is the me I should have been,

In a box with rusty padlocks,

In a corner of my head.