My Room

  • wispy cobwebs floating around the ridges of my window

  • a lone forgotten nail stuck in the cement of the corner wall

  • pencil scribbles of my youth painting the walls with ugly gray

  • strips of orange in a black bedpost crying for new paint

  • an unused badminton racket gaining weight as it hangs on the back of the door

  • an old skylight filtered with cobwebs and dust

  • books slanting to the right, vying for attention and worn-out from boredom

  • a formidable cardboard box locked with angry memories

  • a gray and white linolieum floor, faded, unpolished, cringing at the cheerfulness of the ceiling light

  • a stack of folders filled with unrealized possibilities

  • a silent keyboard, empty of music, standing at its side against the wall

  • faded photographs of faded faces and smiles that have waned in time

  • an antique chest, scratched, beaten, and set aside for being too old

  • a glass vase blooming with pens instead of flowers

  • a half-empty cup of coffee, cold from neglect

Here I sit as the day darkens ... desolate ... alone ... forgotten.

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