An empty chair
In the center of a dark room
Filled with tormented souls
Thinking of the damned
The empty chair
There to remind them
Of all their loss
All of their grief
An empty chair
That used to be occupied
In a bright room
Filled with lively souls
Thinking of futures
An empty chair that once held hope.
Dust flits gently on its arm; slowly & lazily.
As if not to cut, tear the patiently sewed seams.
Cotton against yellowing white thread.
The sanctuary for reminiscing about mesmerising scenes
The throne for Kings and Queens without crowns to be seen
I'm overwhelm by ecstasy as I bask in this endless elation of delectation.
TAH-dah!! First ever ever collaboration with a brilliant writer, Jamie King.
I am so eeek. happy, at how two different writing styles can meld together! :')
Thanks Jamie, again!
This is dedicated to the chair in the room.
No, not the elephant. He is too obvious. He is merely an inconvenience people ignore as they go about their lives. I mean the chair in the room, rather all the chairs in our lives.
Chairs are silent, to us they only seem to have the purpose to support and comfort us. this is to those who go about their lives asking for little and drawing no attention to themselves. Yet they are always there to give us a break. To help us get our work done, to help our tired legs and minds.
This is to those who are selfless in their relationships. For they give no expectation of returned favor.
This is to the chairs in our lives.
I sit upon an impossible throne,
The world's most comfortable chair.
It's all I'll ever wish to own
Though I forget it's even there.
My chair is ergonomical,
Conforming right to me.
Whatever I find desirable
It suits every want and need.
I feed it everything I have
But it never is enough,
Everyday my fingers bleed
Stuffing it with fluff.
I only see in front of me,
My chair it does not turn.
And as far as I can see
My chair is the whole world.
My chair is all I'll ever know
I seldom choose to leave it.
It scarcely ever lets me go
It's all I can believe in.
I don't know what I'd do without it,
Perhaps get up and get a life.
But instead I'll sit and stagnate,
Dying in my own delight.
I've left behind what was once in line,
Countless demeaning remarks,
All forgotten, except "I'm done trying."
Words won't leave you dying,
It's whats behind them that sting like poison darts.
Every morning on my way to see her, and everyone I knew,
I passed two chairs, translucent, that you could barely see through.
Looking back on it now, after all this time
I can compare the curiosity, compassion,
the peak, and downfall, line by line.
Those chairs endured the most beautiful of days,
to the days where I felt as if I were in a maze,
One day a chair ripped, from the foundation.
I threw away the second one along with it,
One chair was wrong for every situation.
Hours become minutes, when you embark
on each second with no intent on finding out
where you'll end up, without a doubt.
I wonder when I'll get lost,
because I'm starting to regret the price I had to pay,
by refusing to stay, would be the ultimate cost.
When you sit in a chair you sink into it's warmth and comfort.
It's like it's hugging you and making you feel like everything is alright in life.
As you sit in that chair you start to wonder.
Wonder about life and all of it's treasures.
That chair is magical giving you happiness and light.
And replenishing you for the rest of the night.
You finally stand up and you feel uneasy and faint.
Feeling like you can't move and your constraint.
You sit back down and all of your colour comes back.
What just happened? You wonder.
'Maybe I should just sit back and relax.'
You fall asleep in the chair and the next morning you wake up fresh.
You feel so good and you had such a great rest.
But when you stand up again you just fall back down.
The chair is holding on to you and won't let you go.
It's afraid you'll never come back to it and you'll just leave.
Abandoning it never coming back to see.
See if it's okay and if it's been refurbished.
Or to see if it's torn down to little pieces.
You don't care it's just a chair.
That will collect dust in despair.
So you get up and say goodbye to that chair.
And you never come back.
Because that's what you're best at.
That chair will stay there and hope for another.
Another to sit and ponder.
And then that person will also get up and leave.
Leaving that chair to stay and grieve.
Grieve about the loss of all the people that have come and gone.
And only used it as something to sit on.