Glass Box

Most days I sit here in a daze,
Secretly wishing it would all go up in a blaze,
So then, I could finally be free,
Free to totally be me.
Me.
Who am I you ask?
I’m a quirky random individual full of a task,
that I have yet to master,
because I’m not quite sure what it is.

I know that its something major, huge, dare I say supreme?
Something that has to be done, something that has to come forth on this earth in this time,
but its too much bull (bleep) cluttering my mind.
So now I am unable to find that one thing that I am made for.
I do know I am a person full of creativity, kinda like when you have had too much wine and there is no bathroom in sight so your bladder feels confined, you better hold it.
Don’t let it go, people may see, your pants full of creative pee.

So I sit stuck in a glass box;
a glass box which I wish I could say was already broken.
Then I think is that really true?
Do I want to really escape? Do you?
Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I really want too.

It’s safe here in my little glass box
So I guess for the time being I’ll stay.
Stay here everyday,
I will work like an ox,
Aimlessly filing, stapling, hole punching and what not.

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