What losing taught me

They handed me a box—half full, half bare,

papers, mug, and a thin air of despair.

Walls I knew turned cold and tight,

a cage I built in morning light.

Lost control like spilled coffee stains,

shattered hours, unclaimed gains.

I learned the weight of sudden fall,

a lesson learned beyond the wall.

That losing carves a hollow space,

where pride once lived, now out of place.

But in that box, I found a crack,

a glimpse of something to take back.