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.
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