This is not real.

There is a box in a room, through a door, at the end of a hall.
In this room there is nothing but the box.
In the box are the secrets that I keep.
In the box are the things that I've done.
In the box are my memories.
I made the box.
I took a branch from every tree in the world.
A band of every metal.
A lock made of stone.
A hinge made of glass.
After a thousand years I was done.
Yesterday the box was full.
Today I woke up.
The box was gone.