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He lives in the largest dark compartment up there
I am trapped in my mind's prison listening to him
I hear no noise but a type of static voice lives there
Sadness lives there
He talks to me and I it
We are friends... but we are not
He hurts me because I created him
He hurts me because others grew him
He hurts me because he is the only thing that lives in this box
I can not put the box back upon the shelf
I can not escape the box
I have to carry it with me
He just keeps living there
I keep letting him
I don't know why I chose to write this poem today. I didn't sleep well and I have a meeting tomorrow that has my hairs bristling a bit. I have a kind of awkward life thing, that is going on, that has been an ongoing struggle. Sometimes it is just the accumulation of the little things. If you check out that "meet sadness" link you will be directed to the 4th post I had made here 2 months ago. I talk about Sadness then and I tried to make it very clear that sometimes Sadness is a part of my life. I can sit here and try to ignore him but sometimes I just don't have the wherewithal to put on the happy face ...Sometimes I take out the box, place it on my lap and spend a little time looking within it. Unfortunately you are sitting beside me while I do so... so sometimes I might make you look into the box too. You don't have to be afraid of what is inside... It can not hurt you... it is just a box with a voice...