The Bex Box

For a while now I've been trying to get out of a box
   To lift the lid,
      Kick doen the sides,
         To get free,
I'm not sure how I got there, or who's fault it was
  but it's been feeling to small for me

The strangest thing happened to me today though,
     the box?
         -it's starting to look quite appealing
Despite my severe chaustrophobia
   i'm thinking of crawling back in

I wanted to be unconstrained but now want to hide
    with protection,
        cotton wool,
             bubble wrap.
To endure the turbulent shaky journey
   and essentially avoid getting smashed

I'm not sure what word describes best how I feel...
    brittle?
        -yes, I'm like a vase made out of glass
immense pressure is causing hariline cracks
   and I'm not sure how long I can last

So I want to put Bex back in the box with warnings
    "handle with care"
         "keep this way up"
                or "fragile"
People would know where I'm at that way at least
   that I'm struggling despite my smile...

God's reminding me though, where glass gets sculpted?
      Fire!
          -He can craft beautiful things in the furnace
So, forget the box, I'll stay in the flames
Strangely, it's there I feel safest