How many times
can the axe strike the log...
before the axe gives way?
How loud a voice
does it take to be heard—
when everyone...has something to say?
How many strokes
of a paintbrush on canvas—
does it take
to erase a blot?
How many debates,
silences... and sighs—
would it take to convey my thought?
It’s just an invisible box...
little room to move about—
no walls... no locks in sight—
and yet there’s no way out.
How many insults
should it take to ground my soul—
strip the ego...from the skin?
How many years
should one wait for a change—
even as patience... wears thin?
How many fake smiles,
pretenses... and laughs—
does it take to be who one is not?
How many words,
polished to sound just right—
must be said...to join in the lot?
It’s just an invisible box...
little room to move about—
no walls... no locks in sight—
and yet there’s no way out.
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