Rooms in My Mind

Ever feel like your mind is a house full of doors you’re too afraid to open? Step inside, each room tells a story you've lived but may not remember.

There’s a house I visit when silence falls,

With many rooms and endless halls.

Each door I pass, a thought I keep,

Some are wide awake, some fast asleep.

The Room of Echoes is always loud,

Where doubts parade and fears feel proud.

Old voices play on scratched-up tape,

"No, you're not strong. You won't escape."

The Mirror Room is cracked with years,

Distorted truths and bottled tears.

Reflections shift with every breath,

Am I alive, or close to death?

A Locked Room hums with glowing red,

It holds the things I’ve never said.

It shakes at night. It begs to speak.

I slide the key beneath the teak.

The Room of Joy is painted light,

But only glows in a dream at night.

It smells like rain and orange zest,

The version of me that felt her best.

I climb the stairs to Memory’s Loft,

Where time feels slow and colors soft.

There, photos float and whispers curl,

The little girl who shaped my world.

The Hall of Masks comes after that,

With shelves of smiles, each smile flat.

I wear them when I face the day,

But leave them here when I decay.

At last, I reach the Center Room,

No walls, no doors, just endless bloom.

It’s where I go when I want peace,

To hold my wounds and find release.

So if you ask, “Where have you been?”

Not far, just deep beneath my skin.

I travel inward, not by choice,

To meet my pain and give it a voice.