September 29, 2016

Headed upstairs
Straight to my room
When I open the door I see a trash can filled
Of papers, letters, and old ideas.
My room is clean and shoes are out of the way
Shoes show the miles traveled
A pair with the laces untied waiting for the next adventure.

When I open the door I see my record player.
The record is spinning again and again
Singing its heart out.
New rap or old motown
It makes no difference the record
Just keeps spinning.
The record player only has 2 knobs
So at least we have one thing in common
We are easy to figure out.

When I look into the room i see comics
Pages of super powered adventures or just drama
The only reading I enjoy
No over complicated plots or
Words that would never be in my vernacular .
Where people talk normally
And the art styles are unique and mesmerizing.
The anticipation of turning a page
That only a comic could bring.

When I open the door I see my bed ,
The symbol of the next day.
My bed is made and pillows are neat
That will soon change,
I’ll see these things tomorrow
When I open the door.

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