All of my mistakes are written on the walls.
The floor riddled with discarded hopes.
Anxieties soar around the room,
Bats in an orchestra of anarchy. Aspirations struggle to rise
From the failure - soaked floor.
Beautiful memories hang on the wall,
Framed with care and precision.
Gears gnash angrily at the ceiling
And the stench of loneliness permeates the room.
Furniture is carefully placed
In a weak effort to regain control.
They are torn and tattered,
Obvious signs of terrible creatures.
This room has no doors
And it has no windows.
All my efforts to escape prove futile.
Cleaning and organizing have no meaning. The Room always rearranges itself
Back into its most hideous form.