My room, my life

My room,
My life,
Is it my home?

Four walls,
A ceiling, a floor,
Me, and a door,
That's what makes my room,
That's what makes my life.

Everything has a purpose in my room.
In my life.

A ceiling to remind me
The sky is the limit!
A floor to show me the way.
The way to a new start, a new beginning,
A new life.
And I'm thankful for both.

Four walls to support me,
My room.
One broken and beaten, hollow and torn.
One beautiful and elegant, solid and pretty.
One made with cement, full of secrets,
And the last is a wish.

The four walls make my life;
Past, future, present,
And what could be, what should be,
My wish.

The door is a decision.
Every decision.
I don't know which side is better
Which is worse,
But for now it remains closed,
'Till I make a decision.

Lastly, there is me.
I, too, have a purpose.
A purpose in life,
In my room.

I'm the glue that keeps the walls together.
I'm the nails that makes sure my limit has an end,
Or that my floor stays firm.

But, most of all, I construct.
Most importantly I build my resting place
My home for after I've gone to sleep.
A bed.
The place where my body will stay
While my spirit goes to a better place.

This is my room,
My past, my future, my present,
My wish, my decisions,
My purpose, my limits, my plan,
This is my life.

But is it my home?
It is not my home.
It is merely my practice room,
For heaven is my home!