White walled room.
Cracked at the corners.
Stained on the borders.
When it all became too much,
I received a new coat of paint.
It covered up the showing past pain.
No one else could see it.
Deep inside I still feel it.
No matter the color,
Red, blue, or grey
I always wish I could stay the same.
White walled; how I was before.
Where I didn't hide
I left an open door.
Everyone could see what I was feeling.
The cracks and stains marked
To show my past battles and wars overcome.
Where I could feel and show happiness and gloom.
White walled room.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryPoems I have written, and that were written during times of reflection and thought,
