12 of 30/ 40

I sit alone in this crooked room

watch it expand and contract 

with my life, like it’s breathing and

its lungs are powered by my 

moods- like when I’m happy, the

room can contain the entire world,

swaying to the rhythm of the music

that beats in my chest, and

when I’m sad, the room doesn’t

have enough space for anything

worthwhile, so I sit alone, I 

sit alone and hope for a day when 

I can look past the room into

the world again.

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