This box

This box I've crammed my self, my character and existence into has several flaws from tattered and torn edges , a few burn marks and flat out looks like it's been drug down the road , yet I pick it up time and time again dust it off and go again readily handing it out to be examined , ridiculed and suggested upon. 
This box I've stuffed my hopes , my dreams and all of my successes tidy in the corner . Slowly I've burned them one by one to keep this faith of my warm .
This box you say I should fit in to , seems to be exploding . Busting at it's duct taped seams . . Never meant to hold all that I am or that you wish I'd been . But you hold it still to such esteem that I'll never fit in it seems ...
This box you hold in such high regard , this box I've tried to live in , cram my life in .

This box , well this box is burning , flaking off like embers are your requirements, your standards and everything I'm not burning out in the night as this box burns to ground around you ...  I stand outside this box matches in hand holding all that I am ..  thankful I am who I am ...​​​​​​​