this is what my room looks like
Posted: Sat Oct 03, 2009 5:00 am
Clothes scattered amongst the floor
Posters arranged strategically on the walls
Remnants of earlier days boxed up, out of sight,
Replaced by half hearted attempts at maturity.
Stains on the night stand
Useless trinkets forgotten about on the desk
A shrine to former hope in the form of crucifixes
Struggling to survive in the corner.
Once used prayer books lay buried in political fiction
Rosaries hang idly on the closet door
Covered by thick sweatshirts.
The curtains remained closed so no sun can shine through.
The air omits a stale smell
Feebly covered up by a slow moving ceiling fan.
A lone TV connected to no power source
Reflects guitars on its blank screen.
A keyboard and harmonica lay tentatively on some papers,
Empty bags of food and a forever full trashcan
Exist merely due to loss of determination.
Ancient trophies manage to nobly stand on shelves above the room.
Through a crack in the curtains a lone shard of light shines through,
Its radiance gleams on one thing in particular:
A clock left unplugged, never counting time,
Forever still.
Posters arranged strategically on the walls
Remnants of earlier days boxed up, out of sight,
Replaced by half hearted attempts at maturity.
Stains on the night stand
Useless trinkets forgotten about on the desk
A shrine to former hope in the form of crucifixes
Struggling to survive in the corner.
Once used prayer books lay buried in political fiction
Rosaries hang idly on the closet door
Covered by thick sweatshirts.
The curtains remained closed so no sun can shine through.
The air omits a stale smell
Feebly covered up by a slow moving ceiling fan.
A lone TV connected to no power source
Reflects guitars on its blank screen.
A keyboard and harmonica lay tentatively on some papers,
Empty bags of food and a forever full trashcan
Exist merely due to loss of determination.
Ancient trophies manage to nobly stand on shelves above the room.
Through a crack in the curtains a lone shard of light shines through,
Its radiance gleams on one thing in particular:
A clock left unplugged, never counting time,
Forever still.