Click

Fri, 11/06/2015 - 18:55 -- MrRum8

Click.

My room is a photo album of the bricks that form the walls of my body,

Each a Kodak moment of my life.

The walls are painted gray,

Because one day not so long ago I learned how faded the line between black and white really were.

Spaces on my bookshelf are left empty,

Because I am afraid if they fill up so will my mind and I don’t want to stop learning.

Piles of instruments line the floor,

Most of which I cannot play, but love to hear, to feel.

Click.

I have three lamps.

Each giving me a new perspective as the shadows in my room twist and form figures.

Piles of books like towers looming over me.

The constant reminder that I will never get done reading,

Which isn’t a bad thing.

Each title a part of my past or future.

My life is made up of broken pencils and half-written sentences,

Holding me back.

Click.

Each word I write drags its self onto my walls,

Framing an image of my mind.

The pictures always tuning out blurry, but I don’t care.

I never cared,

Because one day the pictures will become clear…

…and I would have built myself into a grand castle.

Bricks to turn to gold,

As soon I enter my room.

..Click..

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741