My belongings..A Poem by PennySomething you can read after my death.
Come into my little room
A square cage, and solace too. Made of walls lilac in colour- So dark they seem to fall on me. At once you see a broken bed- Almost broken, like my future, Still bearing the weight of, A sleeping mind, a resting present. Comfort is scattered there too, In form of pillows, slightly wet. Sometimes because of my drooling And sometimes... Oh! Save your head rising up from here, A stone shelf juts out there, Kept on it is a bottle of cologne My love gifted me once- Only to ask back for it. Decorated there and downwards too, Are pages torn and chewed- the evidence of my insanity. And below it, inside the closet Are my friends waiting for you. Yes, a big bunch of small books, And papers in wrinkled look. Some to be read, some to be written Kept beside a clumsy mess, as if hidden. A coffee mug, perhaps two. Too many keyrings to view, In different colours and shapes and sizes With them lie my fun devices. Move left, but not too far, Hidden behind, a window pane ajar You find a plastic in which- Is a peach cold cream and a berry lipbalm Keeping pain away, from my visage. Crushed from there weight is a little tube Sweet smelling antiseptic, seldom used. And thus it tells you, at last I wasn't numb after all. Petty it didn't dissolve my pain, The day I got lost and found no gain. Where am I now- living or dead you ask? Am I dead- I don't know, but I never lived a life for sure. © 2015 PennyAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorPennylucknow, IndiaAboutAn introvert by profession, I've developed a love for writing to express my feelings. Sadly its my only talent, wanna know from you good people if I can be a writer professionaly.I dont fit into any g.. more..Writing
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