Four walls can only contain so much.
It’s almost like the objects are all screaming to get out.
Pressed against each other like a full elevator.
Even the walls are filled to a point where you can barely see the paint underneath.
However, the eratic bare spots on those walls say that something changed.
The picture frames once full long for older days.
While the jar of ashes wants them gone.
The childish items that frequent the room laugh to cover the hideosity of the rest.
The grotesque mess cries for help as he does nothing.
The holes of memorabilia in the walls scream too loud.
Such a large space but it’s hard to breathe.
Even the floor is suffocating.
Such a large space for one person.
The objects will do.
Such a large space but only room for one person.
You can fill a room but what’s not there will always haunt you.
Poetry
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Woah. That last line hit hard.