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My Room

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The white tile ceiling stares down at me
It’s blankness taunting me with its ease of life
It has no decisions to make
It has no struggles in its path
To sit and to stay is its job
And mine is to live

My blue framed mirror laughs at me
It sees everything clearly
There are no scratches on it,
No smudged surfaces
Nothing to cloud its mind
Unlike me

My clock says 12:57 am
It has no decisions either
Each number comes in order
It knows no chaos, nor confusion
And as my world crumbles
Time will not stop

My bed creaks beneath
Its only strain is my weight
No possible out comes or variables
It doesn’t know how I feel
The intricate workings of my mind
My strain is more so

My closet is the closest thing to me
It has so many choices
So many options to choose from
Shorts or jeans? White or yellow?
I can make a choice for clothes
But not for my own life.



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