They say to think outside the box, 

but I have always found comfort in the claustrophobia.

I prefer to analyze it’s every crevice, 

take careful note of its consistencies.

Become one with the six sides, envelope myself in its security, 

disguise myself from all the evils and atrocities and wretched horrors that lie in the outside world.

I like my box.

It’s just a box.

It thinks simple thoughts, it does what it’s taught.

It insulates me from the major consternation of which my mind was once wrought.

So when I lay my head, upon my bed,

to reflect on the events of my day,

I tuck them in a box, gone, short and sweet,

so my mind cannot wander astray.