its the room that slowly,
unleashes darkness within me
the room where my mother doesnt clutter,
the room where my father doesnt watch the news
its the room that flows through,
and leaves in me unheld waters
the room where my sister doesnt twit about busily
the room where she doesnt sleep with her face in her book.
its the room that with silent melancholy
reminisces all the nights i spent within its walls
shut away from the rest of the world
shut away from myself.
its the room that protected my dignity when
with much desolation,
i muffled my pain, in my quilt.
the room that has seen it all. known it all,
and yet remained bitterly cold.
1 comment:
Really beautiful. I've never looked at a room that way.
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