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.