I woke up to the noise,
Buzzing from the faraway timepiece.
In a dark room full of boxes,
Of unknown things in the corners.
I see myself in the mirror one meter away,
Heavy bags and messy hair becoming the trademark.
The table fan turning from one side to another,
And the air conditioner on, blowing air at uncertain speeds.

With only the light of a laptops and smartphone,
Plugged into the electric supply.
Cans of coffee, beer, and energy drink,
Like trophies on the shelf.
The mailbox filled with bills,
Joints break like twigs on a stretch.

Body stiff as a rigid bar of steel,
My spirit of youth drains like the battery of the laptop or phone.
The forgotten memories of childhood rush in like a wave,
Where a child of year seven lies on the riverbed with no worries of the future.


© RukiaAckerman