When I look into my bedroom I see a shelf of various book genres that I read over and over again, when I look into my bedroom and look beyond the rest I see a window which I have seen many, many different things through, when I look into my bedroom and door ahead I see a dresser with many clothing items I will cherish for life. Above I see some of my most valuable collections, when I look into my bedroom and look down I see a box of various types of ***** which I have kicked and thrown all over the house When I look inside my closet and look down I see board games that I have played over and over again. When I look inside my closet and look straight ahead I see sweatshirts that have kept me warm in the winter months. When I look inside my closet and look up I see enormous puzzles that I have spent days and days and days to complete, when I look into my bedroom and look right I see my bed where I have had good dreams and bad dreams and dreams in between. When I look into my bedroom and look right I see soccer cards which I have spent hours organizing and putting in their holders. When I look into my bedroom and look beyond my bed I see a shelf with fidget spinners, nerf guns, athlete cards, travel games, and remote control cars everywhere, when I look into my bedroom and look beyond my dresser I see a big box of athletes cards which I have studied over and over again, when I look in my bedroom and look at the walls I see posters of athletes who inspire mes like no other, when I look into my bedroom and look above my closet I see my mini basketball hoop which I have attempted many shots on. when I look into my bedroom I see my very own personality.
This is a poem that my 10 year old brother wrote and wanted you guys to see. 12/30/19
Incense smoke lingers heavily in the air, attempting to mask the smell of stale beer and spilled **** water. Arrest warrants hang with straight A report cards and dated paintings I used to call art.
You and I, woven in between soft and stained sheets on my hand-me-down mattress. Our clothes, thrown into heaps on the floor. I stare at faded, falling posters while you trace my scars left by a pair of hands before yours.
Buddha watches over dusty photo albums and half read books I will never finish as Mary hangs off your neck watching over an unfinished me.
We lay underneath burned out bulbs of ceiling string lights listening to scratched CDs skip, sharing a sweet cigarette. I know you and I are not forever. like these walls I have outgrown.
My bedroom may not be the most fantastic you’ve ever seen. There are clothes strewn about, the linen is crumpled; Instruments laying around, Christmas lights on the wall and a clock that changes colours. Bedside table piled with books I’ve yet to read and 3D glasses from the 7:30 pm showing of The 50th Anniversary Doctor Who special. Griffyndor banner Zombie Survival poster pentacle drawing guitar poster All Time Low poster, pictures album covers drawings on the walls. Simple… but this is mine. It’s where I’ve laughed with her, cried with her, Gotten annoyed as **** with her. Where we snuck out at 2 in the morning, to walk up and down the sidewalk to dance in the street and sing Nickelback as loud as we could. It’s where the nights that kept me alive went down, and stayed down, in more ways than one that summer. It’s where we had our first kiss and where we had our last. I feel like my waves extinguished your flame that once burned anyone who tried to ***** it. And for that, I’m sorry.
So burn bright, honeybabe, and show them what you’re made of. Burn brighter than me. And remember. If you ever need a place to go… This bedroom is simple, but it’s ours.