Is this an ordinary life?
Sitting in your bedroom,
With your green carpet,
And walls painted with your hopes.
The air bleeds your potential like the blood of newly dead.
The dim light shines through,
Exposing your dreams that lay on the floor in the form of paper and a pen.
The music you play,
Drowning out the sorrow of life,
The sorrow of another day.
The whispers float through the walls,
Letting you know you're not good enough,
Letting you know that whatever you do you will fail at sadly.
You're mind wants to get out of this room inot the eyes of the world,
But you cant leave this room,
After all it does have all of you in it.
If the world can tell all of your gifts by looking at your room,
Then what dreams, hope, and potential did you save for the rest of the world?
Cheyenne Ashley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-bedroom/
