Poem: The Small Box

In this world where not everyone is someone you like,
I make a small box in my heart,
toss in the words of people I don't like,
and smile as if I don't know anything.

Though 'I don't like you' might one day turn into 'I like you,' inside the box I've tossed them into,
if they are forgotten someday,
they become neither liked nor disliked,
and the feelings for that person simply turn into indifference.

That person's words,
just keep screaming inside the box,
and eventually just rot away.

Perhaps,
everyone has one.
Perhaps,
everyone feels it.

That everyone is friends
is just a facade.

We tacitly accept it, thinking it can't be helped.

That girl who is
always smiling,
surely
has several small boxes.

She quietly tucks them away,
and smiles.

The reason she
cries sometimes
is because words that will never rot
are grumbling
inside her heart.

Everyone, everyone,
is doing their best
to live in this world.

That's why we make boxes in our hearts.

To forget the unpleasant things.

It's a facade that everyone is friends, but
it would be nice to have just one true friend.

A true friend you can tell anything to.