This Box Isn't For Me

I can't be contained,

without space, my wings will rust.

It's too cramped, not enough room.

You built this for me?

How could I possibly fit?

I'd become nothing more than your puppet, you see.

What satisfies you, it doesn't do the same for me.

I've got my own plans, which you disapprove of; it's true.

Why would I ever willingly walk into this dangerous view?

Just because you're richer or better-connected, or whatever...

Why would I take orders from anyone?

You've got your own team to tell what to do.

Managers, daughters, sons, spouses...

It has nothing to do with me, I'm afraid.

I share my thoughts and ideas.

To capture them, hold them close.

Package them neatly

and send them out into the world.

I'm guessing you don't operate this way.

You're trapped within yourself, it seems.

While your focus is elsewhere,

telling tales about me,

knowing nothing more than a grain.

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Thank you for reading!