1.7 The room
I stand in the centre of a room
There is nothing, the room is empty, bare,
There are no happy memories on the walls, no reminders of the good times,
But, there is something. Permanent markings in the architecture, these are the bad memories,
Constant reminders of the pain.
There is no future for this room. Fresh, yet already worn,
The room is young, but now it is coming apart.
There is no hope for this room.
Braces and jacks come along to seal the holes and hold this room together,
These braces and jacks, are they permanent? Will they last?
The fresh shell may be saved, but the interior is dull, damaged, damned.
How much longer will the room stand?
The room is cold and draughty, and just like a sinking ship, you want to get off.
There is an atmosphere in this dull, bare room, it is one of pain and hurt.
The room will not last forever, that is certain, but for how long will it remain?
This room is my life.
**
Jamie Scott Watkinson-Harvey
There is nothing, the room is empty, bare,
There are no happy memories on the walls, no reminders of the good times,
But, there is something. Permanent markings in the architecture, these are the bad memories,
Constant reminders of the pain.
There is no future for this room. Fresh, yet already worn,
The room is young, but now it is coming apart.
There is no hope for this room.
Braces and jacks come along to seal the holes and hold this room together,
These braces and jacks, are they permanent? Will they last?
The fresh shell may be saved, but the interior is dull, damaged, damned.
How much longer will the room stand?
The room is cold and draughty, and just like a sinking ship, you want to get off.
There is an atmosphere in this dull, bare room, it is one of pain and hurt.
The room will not last forever, that is certain, but for how long will it remain?
This room is my life.
**
Jamie Scott Watkinson-Harvey