The walls are weeping again. They do that sometimes
when the room is too cold.
I go to sleep under the layers in my little bubble of warmth
and wake up to find
that the walls are weeping again.
They say that your room is a reflection of your mind. The beautiful colours of your thoughts, sprawled across the walls in the form of messy posters and promises you make to your future.
But how can that be?
How can it be that, as i turn myself off, blissfully unaware of what goes on outside my window,
my walls weep for me instead?
I choose a new playlist tonight. It’s a new custom I made for myself. “Music is our savior, a healing dose to uplift our souls.” And a positive mindset leads to good dreams. Or better yet, none at all. My mind protected by the shell I sleep in, silent and peaceful through those 8 hours. And sometimes, as I feel myself drift away, carried up by the clouds that resemble my bed, I can hear the walls come alive.
They dance that hum with a radiance that shines bright and strong. My thoughts, splattering onto those very walls, and getting pulled into the neverending dance.
And maybe that’s where the song turns into a sob. The swirls of dance become the shaking of stiff shoulders finally slouching as their cries are heard by the world.
But not by me.
Because my shoulders ease with every lull and gentle breath I take.
I roll around my bed all night through no choice of my own, because my mind is no longer mine.
My mind is wide awake, perhaps the most it has ever been.
Unchained and unrefined, unafraid in its solitude.
My mind dances and cries up there with the walls.