I am alive in my room
Where there are two windows
One right, one left
The right one is painted white, layered with curtains of daffodils
The left window is clean and clear, framed in black porcelain
The white window glances outside of my cluttered room
The black window stares at the world from the confines of my tomb
They both see past cluttered thoughts and through each confusing debate
They both whisper their own breezes and this is what they say
The dark one,
“Why do they keep trying so hard when they can never make it?
Even though they have their clean hearts, only the strong can survive it.
Only the strong can thrive through it.”
The light one,
“How about we lend a clean hand before the world takes them?
This might be their only chance,
To survive and thrive through their lives.”
I am not sure which window shows me the truth
Or which one should, but I take turns
Gripping the cold black surface with wide indomitable eyes
Sighing through the gauzy curtains with my blurry vision
I don’t know which window to break
Build, burn or preserve
For now I will continue to wander
To the left and to the right
Because I am still alive in my room.