Poem: This Box

A poem about the creation process, and struggling with whether people like the things I make.

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In front of me is a box
That is small and light. 
And in it I put little 
Creations that I like. 

But collectively those 
Pieces of imagination 
Grow denser than what 
The box can hold. 

And so when I pick
It up to bring to you, 
The box caves in and 
Everything falls out. 

And then I am left
Picking it all back up, 
Wondering if you
Would have cared about 
Those things at all.