I am alive in my room

Where there are two windows

One right, one left

The right one is painted white, layered with curtains of daffodils

The left window is clean and clear, framed in black porcelain

The white window glances outside of my cluttered room

The black window stares at the world from the confines of my tomb

They both see past cluttered thoughts and through each confusing debate

They both whisper their own breezes and this is what they say

The dark one,

“Why do they keep trying so hard when they can never make it?

Even though they have their clean hearts, only the strong can survive it.

Only the strong can thrive through it.”

The light one,

“How about we lend a clean hand before the world takes them?

This might be their only chance,

To survive and thrive through their lives.”

I am not sure which window shows me the truth

Or which one should, but I take turns

Gripping the cold black surface with wide indomitable eyes

Sighing through the gauzy curtains with my blurry vision

I don’t know which window to break

Build, burn or preserve

For now I will continue to wander

To the left and to the right

Because I am still alive in my room.