The Room

Lying upon her bed,
so confused about what to do next.
Her hand rested upon her heart,
sitting up only to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall.

Laying back down, feeling confused.

Gazing at the wall trying to find answers
trying to clear the cobwebs in her life
tapping her fingers to the tune of the radio,
pondering her choices, chewing her emotions,
closing her eyes in an attempt to find her dreams.

Her mind is a blank board.

Peering into the mirror, a familiar face looks back,
the reflection giving no guidance;

the reflection gives her no guidance.

She sits up and looks at the floor,
figuring she'd start from the base and work her way up,
though the floor is cluttered with mess,
like her mind.

Reaching to pull the curtain across the window,
she stops and spies him outside looking in on her,
charming he may be, sincere and genuine.

He has no message for her to hear.

She waves then rises to pull the curtains shut,
finally she is standing, and finally she can reach for the door.

Her opened door will give her the answers.

Her opened door will give her dreams.

Her opened door will give her guidance;

her opened door will give her many messages.

She walks through her door, and without gazing back, walks away to discover.

And discover what? She doesn't care. She’s out of the room.