Perfectly Normal

I put the crazy in a pretty box.

It didn’t quite fit

but I sat on it and forced the lid shut. 

You stay in there, now!

(it whimpered a little)

And be quiet!

I locked the box,

and stuffed it in a closet,

in a room,

in a house,

on a road,

in a village

far from everything, secret, stashed away.

Too much trouble, otherwise.  

I kept it nicely organized,

and I kept it well hidden. 

No one suspects. Nobody knows.

Eventually, even I forgot about it. 

So the crazy sits alone, 

untouched,

unbothered, 

because it knows that

a single match (struck casually)

can undo the box,

the house,

and the whole lot.