It sits,
black
tarnished
taunting

Five sides and a lid…
one would think it
would be less intimidating

But what it holds
well…
that is the problem

It moves
rattles
shakes
quivers

Reminding me that
while it’s locked
what’s inside remains alive

Glowing
toxic
seeping
locked but not sealed

It’s ugly…
and no amount of polishing
will ever make it shine

I keep it tucked away…

Pandora’s box holds
fewer issues than
this battered square.