small, black, wooden, undelivered,
no light, no air,
no hope, no despair,
sitting in one corner of the storage room,
surrounded by other lost souls,
feels it has met its destiny,
this is where it is meant to be.
Look around, it says,
every other box is lost too,
So it continues to be,
a small, black wooden box,
that got lost in the maze called life,
never questions or believes,
in the world outside his box.
Sketch by:Puneet Bhatt