Keeping A Lid On (Poetry)

There is no doubt the box is full —
it’s bursting at the seams —
despair is trickling through the cracks
while hope escapes in streams.

The nightmares buried deep inside
are clawing to be free —
the trunk I thought would keep them in
has split alarmingly.

I glimpse old horrors as they squirm
and struggle for control —
attempt a DIY repair
before I’m swallowed — whole.

There’s no one now to lend a hand —
give sympathetic weight —
alone I’m pressing down the lid
and fighting with grim fate.

My hold on sanity grows weak
from apathy’s cold touch —
genetic links are rusting through —
I always feared as much.