A room teeming with ideas,
Where objects litter the floor,
Along my miraculous haven.
Where find is to lose,
And lose is to find,
That is the way of the things in My Room.
A place where ravenous ravens never rave,
Ruining my organized, chaotic room.
Seamless knowledge lies in paper,
Running along the walls their wooden resting place,
Knowledge kept, lost in time,
Lost in an infinite library of chaotic storms.
Lying its wooden lies a piano,
Happy to see its owner play its melodious tunes once again,
Acquainted with its silvery friend, the flute,
Next to the stalking metal stand.
At last I see,
Without a disturbance from foreign contact,
Sitting at the top of the world,
Slumbering in the back corner,
Lies My Room.