Memory Box

There's a box of memories

I keep beneath my bed.

Inside there is a record,

Of all I've done and said.

.

My every word and action,

However vile or lewd,

Once shut away inside my box,

Is trapped inside for good.

.

I never dare to open,

This box so full of dread,

That's strengthened by my darkest fears,

And by my nightmares fed.

.

But even so I'm powerless,

I cannot stop the tide

Of past mistakes and old regrets,

That flow out from inside.

.

But what I fear above all else,

Is when it overfills,

When it no longer can be closed,

And the evil overspills.

.

For then all hope would whither,

All goodness die away.

Then Jekyll would fall to the sword,

And Hyde would hold his sway.

.

But until that dreaded day should come,

All I can do is pray,

That all the good deeds in my life,

Can all the bad outweigh.

.

There's a box of memories,

I keep beneath my bed,

Whose evil contents will, I fear,

Haunt me til I'm dead.