Box Of Unoriginality Poem by Purity Chapel

Wretched, wasted souls who have succumbed
to the Box of Unoriginality.
See to it that your minds are forever numbed
to this World's abandoned beauty.
Your passions and boundaries are stolen
from the Sirens' melodies drawing you in.
The serpents' fangs poison the heart's secret token
and exchange it for exposure to stark lines.
That mindless Box becomes an addiction
that torments Creativity with its dancing colors.
Why pain the mind with such idiotic affliction
and stroll indifferently through the World's Fairness
that continually, over you, hovers?