The Box

I am Stuck. In a box. A box of my own making. I designed these walls. Made up of hardened rock. My walls. Tough. Strong, but they bend. They can crumble any moment now. I'm waiting for the disintegration I will lie down when they fall, naked, aware of those watching. Expecting the fall. Where once I stood tall, hidden beneath those walls, they will be gone. And all that will be left is me. Lying, scared. I am that box. Unyielding. I am strong. And yet I crumble. Negative pressure takes hold and I fold. Where can I hide now?