Mislabeled Clown Makeup

Boxed up my trauma, needed to contain it

Placed it in storage in the back of my head

My access is blocked

but it works as a liquid- dull

suffer leaking like a virus

Too small to see, just not to feel

the cloud consuming my chest

But it had to come from somewhere,

didn’t it?

I don’t know what to do.

If I surrender to the pain

will I be glued to the floor?

How long before the tackiness dries?

Could I break from paralysis

while I wade through the concrete-

to reach the storage-

the box marked: Do Not Open-

but the container, where it lives-

it must know it’s here, so I ask…

What’s inside the box?

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