Do not make a home of the box you were put in.
Pull the knife from your spine and wield it.
Sculpt your way to freedom.
You are carver, not captive.
If your hands are tied,
Plant your feet in the ground and grow roots.
Dislodge the very earth beneath you.
You are vine, not victim.
If your legs give out,
Fork your tongue and spit venom.
Douse the walls and melt the whole enclosure.
You are serpent, not sacrifice.
If your body goes numb,
Keep breathing and transcend.
Hold on a little longer but
Do not make a home of the box.
If you make it out to find that the hands of your oppressor are your own-
Wash them in forgiveness.
View your reflection with gentle eyes
You made it from the box,
Not carver, not vine, not serpent,