A box for me.

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A box for me.
I wonder what it could be.
It could be one out of a billion, trillion things.
Buy why just that in particular?
What could it be?
Why do I deserve a present?
Am I a special person?
So I open this ordinary,
questioning box.
I look in it,
its empty.
I am not understanding why?
I looked at you.
You disappeared.
Maybe I am empty.
Like a box.
But why?
Maybe it’s just me that I don’t understand.
Maybe everything I see is empty.
Its just as clear as an empty box.





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