A Boxtrolls Poem
Scurrying around like little ants
Through the never ending maze of tunnels
Under the town of Chessebridge's city streets
Only coming out at night when the coast is clear
And like moths to a flame dig through trash
To find something valuable and then turn it into something
Brand new and cool that other boxtrolls never seen before
Living nothing but a meager existence
Different little trolls and one human with different personalities
Who once didn't have a name no means to exist
But now they where their cardboard boxes with pride
Because it displays their each individual and unique name
