There is a box upon my dresser, it keeps what I hold dear. br br When I am too close to it I'm overcome with fear. br br With fear that reminds me that someday I'll die and none shall care. br br It is a horrid, wretching feeling that I would love to share. br br The box holds pictures and notes that record my dreary days. br br My heart is a mere block of ice that people's minds barely graze. br br I am too weak to continue this life, I deserve far worse than death. br br I shall burn the box along with myself, then I may find rest.