.
Am I Pandora?
What hells will I unleash
with every opened box?
What knocks
inside those cardboard towers?
Mere things? Just stuff?
Enough.
They are voices from the past.
Echoes. They leave their touch.
Forlorn hopes wrapped
in protective paper.
Do I need reminding?
Or am I the alchemist,
the exorcist,
who sets them free?
No,
I am Pandora.