The Box

What i keep inside my box

is just for me to know

however, i don't even know

how to open it

Inside my box i believe there are

lots of things that i can only guess about

i believe there are pain, hurt, happiness

the last one is lost between the other two

Every man has his own box

a box they like to call "heart"

our very own boxes

for which none of us have the key

So we search for someone to open it,

to unleash all that's inside of it,

to make us feel proud of opening it,

to make us capable of letting go of it

Because all that's kept inside a box gets old,

gets dirty,

gets useless,

and so are our hearts