why is it that
i can only find inspiration on the cloudiest days?
what about the days where i'm too busy to think?
what about days where i don't get a moment alone?
what about days where i'm immersed in my art?
what about days where i have it all figured out?
what about days where there's so much light i can't even comprehend darkness?
i neglect my brightest days,
only to be inspired by sorrow and stagnation.

When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a room that
used to be owned by my older sister.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a shelf of some
of the toys I have
received over the years.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a twin sized bed,
that I got a couple years ago.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a shelf with
gobs of my favorite
books.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a bunch of,
sports posters around the wall.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a dresser
with some very special
items on top of it.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see a closet
full of clothes, puzzles,
and boardgames.
When I look inside
my very own room
I see a window
that I look out of
every single day.
When I look inside
my very own room,
I see my very own
personality.