Like a cardboard box,
Weakened from overuse,
I gave way,
Folded myself flat and,
Stowed away into a corner.
Under a weight of silence,
I could not communicate,
For fear of people hearing,
What I never wanted to know myself.
From the chipped nail polish on my dirty hands,
To the tip of my tongue at,
The burning filter end of a cigarette,
I chased down every drop of poison on offer,
That tasted like it might help me,