My room,
My hole,
My sanctuary,
My prison.
The place I live,
The place that kills me,
Where love is abundant,
Yet secrets lie unscathed.
I make it my own
But it looks so unfamiliar.
I sit in it
But it looks so empty.
Is it my home
Or just a house?
Would my presence linger
If I left?
Could you walk in and smell
My favorite perfume?
Would looking at the walls
Tell the story of my life?
Or would they seem blank,
Lifeless.
Age 18
My hole,
My sanctuary,
My prison.
The place I live,
The place that kills me,
Where love is abundant,
Yet secrets lie unscathed.
I make it my own
But it looks so unfamiliar.
I sit in it
But it looks so empty.
Is it my home
Or just a house?
Would my presence linger
If I left?
Could you walk in and smell
My favorite perfume?
Would looking at the walls
Tell the story of my life?
Or would they seem blank,
Lifeless.
Age 18