Wooden Box

Slightly similar to cage'd but the context changes quite a bit.

I am trapped in my little box.
abandoned as if I have the pox.
I can hear the rain outside,
I think the others went to hide.

My box is made of wood,
I'd break it, if I could.
It is small and made of oak trees.
Forcing me to crouch on my knees.

Days pass, and I am healthy, down to every hair
for even death himself ignores the wooden square.
The oak prison greets me every dawn.
And I pray for death on my lawn.

Where am I? I do not know.
I knew once, a long time ago.
But location became irrelevant,
as I am the only occupant.

Only insanity is bound to come,
waiting for the day it makes me numb.
Perhaps it can knock down the walls,
or at least turn them into long halls.

I am trapped in my little box.
abandoned as if I have the pox.
I can hear the storm outside,
I have no reason to hide.

Trapped inside this box I wait,
I ask you, is it already too late?

Author's Note

Slightly similar to cage'd but the context changes quite a bit.