A Cloud In This Room

By Ashleigh Hatter

A cloud has holed up in this room,
  where the desk sits/cluttered, and loved
  where the bed stands/cluttered, and loved
  where the books lie/cluttered, and loved
and its being here offends.
The Sun, it blocks,
The Sun, it fights,
and strives to enact baleful Night,
  where the heart moans/heavy, and weary
  where the mind rots/heavy, and weary
  where the will stops/heavy, and weary
and permeate its guilt.
And the want to want it gone...
The want to want is there,
The want to want is strong,
But can it morph into just one,
  where the strength exists/enduring, and honest
  where the dreams live/enduring, and honest
  where the body breaths/enduring, and honest
and bring in radiant light?
Perhaps it can...
If eyes settle on something high,
If eyes, once shut, open wide,
Then they'll see through that cloud and Night,
  where the lies drift/angry, and constant
  where the woe sings/angry, and constant
  where damnation thrives/angry, and constant
and rest on Daytime things.
Things like life and love...
A cloud has holed up in this room,
  where the desk sits/cluttered, and loved
  where the bed stands/cluttered, and loved
  where the books lie/cluttered, and loved
and it being here offends.
But opening those creaking windows...
That is all it takes to save,
That is all it takes to breathe,
And welcome in the fresh of Morning.