Boxes by the bunch

I only just came and yet I go
within the same circles of the Universe
I was thought by circumstance to call
my own

I'm knicks and knacks,beads and coiled silver,
badly written poetry and dried flowers,
things you can put in boxes and hide
under the bed when reality demands more
than a gilded phantom

I pack myself with dust and spiders
inside the womb of cardboard houses
and stand amidst the milky walls
of a room that's turned rotten
like so many times before-
no wonder I'm still a child
in an overgrown cocoon

I only just came and yet I go
through the same wounds and bruises
I wish to heal and conceal
once and for all