My bedroom is a trunk
walled by wood and cement box
This small space is where I sat
from the morning through the night
Sometimes it becomes the beach
and the ocean is what I see
And other times it is all happy
the scenery is something free
But most of the time it is just me
and the color is darker grey
All I see is past mistakes
A blank future that has no end
Have you seen a room of hate?
it's cold but burns
It burns the care