Two Dimensional Box
Silver lining smiles and constant smiles.
But don’t be fooled.
It’s all a cover up.
The hands of fear and vulnerability.
Molding me.
Pushing me.
Trying to fit my voice in as if it’s the last toy
To put in the already overflowing bin.
The sound of despair in the distance
Being shoved closer and closer.
By the works of sorrow.
Gasping.
Seeming as if the reach was impossibly far.
But
There is always a defender for everything. The one
one to grab your cold almost numb hand.
The three dimensional rescuer
listening to your every
cry for help.
Every toy has a belonging place.
A Constellation of Creation 