Goblin box

What little things do you pick up 
To keep inside your goblin box 
Bottle caps, shiny rocks, 
Flower pettels or missing socks? 
Torn papers, shiny coins, 
or glass dulled from the tides 
Things that make you smile 
That others just discard 
Well That’s not quite the case 
For the box inside my heart
The goblin box inside me 
It’s filled with mud and dirt 
Not an ounce of hope in there 
Just a bottomsless hurt 
It’s filled all with the letters 
That my loved ones should have read 
It’s filled with the the pain of waking up 
After one two three four five six attempts 
It’s lined with the losing hand I was given
And shards of broken hearts
Caution tape and cigarette buds 
That scream get back it get hurt 
Its coated in the spit and cum 
Of the men who took me apart 
It’s got my sons soul inside 
But he’s only there to hurt 
It’s tied with ropes that I held tight 
When others were burning it off 
That’s why I keep it deep inside 
In the dark where it belongs 
My goblin box isn’t shiny 
It doesn’t smell of pine and spice 
So I keep it hidden from the world 
As My own personal vice