Suffocating Room of Life

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Standing on the verge of the first inning,

While the other is about to begin.


Confused about which memory to pluck, 

But my trunk is already filled with bad luck.


Want to wait for the door of happiness to open,

But the stool of forbearance is broken.


The wardrobe of hopes is jammed tight,

The folder of delight is kept at a height. 


I also lost the key to my blissful locker,

Where I used to hide my inside joker.

 

The extinguished lamp is lying on the side table, 

Personifying how much I'm disabled.


A luxurious vase is kept, but it's not stable,

Just like people's emotions that wobble.


The table where I used to get dressed,

Now looking at the mirror I only feel depressed.


The places that used to hold delight,

Are full of meaningless fights.


Just sitting & counting each breath,

Eventually, I'm becoming a dried well,

which will be valued, when I'll be embraced by death.







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