I’ve made a comfortable room for myself

Contains a chair, tons of books, and a table.

Somewhere around here is a pen

Used many times to write many things.

It is a tiny place, built with dark wood

Only one light to keep the darkness from swallowing me.

Outside is life..

People living, dreaming, and doing

And I refuse to participate.

Sometimes I open the door to my room

Let some fresh air in

But I haven’t stepped out in years

And I don’t plan to.

One person desperately wants me to leave the room

Wants me to go face life

But I refuse.

Though I tend to listen to him diligently

I won’t this time

Because I don’t know what he is sending me out to.

Nobody has ever asked me

What it was like

Before I was holding my breath.

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