The Box Once there was a box, buried deep under a desolate shore. The crushing weight of the wet sand was always there, forever threatening to splinter the wood of the box's lid if it showed any sign of weakness. Inside the box was sea water that roiled and churned achingly, throwing itself from side to side inside of the box. The water kept rising within, but the box could not let it out, or the sand would go in. So there it stayed unable to move beneath the growing load of sand above it, and ready to split open and cry tears of the choking seawater that threatened to engulf it. It was trapped in an agonising balance of pressure, emotion and darkness. I am that box.
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Matt
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Lily
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