Bedroom Counselling.

There have been several of them.
They are not all alike.
Of course they are similar,
They all house the same thing.



Me.

Tears.

Pain.

anger, frustration, loneliness, depression, insanity,
happiness.

Fear, hopelessness, surrender. Elation.

7 out of 10 things are not happy.



What does this tell? Can you understand?

The place is familiar, loving. self-loving. private. Locked. It should stay locked


Filled with tears and pain. Filled with hopes and dreams.


It smells like me. It smells like my perfume; my candles.

It is cold.

That is from my open window,
It’s so drab that it’s depressing,
So old that you want to knock the walls down,
So small that I feel suffocated.
So crammed that I feel like my life is filled with worthlessness



So, Why Do You Think I Cry?



Like a drug, it consumes me. i am swallowed into it.
Others Try to Save me from It.


i don’t want to be Saved.


It is saving me.

From Them.

It is the only thing that listens. That supports.

A bed soft enough to be surrogate. Walls hard enough to be pounded. Shadows dark enough to empathize. Looks sad enough to mirror my Soul.

It represents me.
i need Love, i need to be violent, i need someone to be in my shoes.
For one. God. Damn. Minute
i need to hide.

And through it all, it is silent, strong and unmoving. But it listens. Without giving anything, it makes me understand what is wrong.

If only it could give the courage to do something about it.

mmm.

if only.

(This was a poem written during my writers craft class when we had to come up with something for the school's literary magazine, and this was all I could come up with. )