A Place To Call My Own
My Original Poem
You walk into a room
And you're presented with two doors,
Two pictures of two different types of people
But neither is you.
What do you do?
Confusion overtakes you,
A deep pit in the bottom of your stomach.
You choose a door
Numbly, you look around.
This isn't right.
Naturally, you try the other one.
This isn't right.
What do you do?
Lost, you stare at the doors
And make a new room.
Nobody helps.
They don't care.
They tell you,
"Pick a door,"
"Pick a room."
They shove you into a room.
What are they seeing?
You keep fighting.
This is my room, my door
And a place to call my own.
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