The Vacant Room Poem by M. Bloom

The lights extinguished
And the curtains drawn
I sit on my unmade bed

Isolated from the outside world
The lone voice the one in my head

The door shut and locked
The daily routine
One that would sound no alarm

And the monsters that speak
Under my breath
Just beg me to do myself harm

It's just the darkness and me
Silent, inert
The usual nothing to see

Only the little red light
Dares to peeks through
To keep me in company

The battery's dying
It's telling me so
And reminds me that all good must end

And even in darkness
I can make out the marks
On my skin from all my past friends

I look around
To see the time gone
Shaved off my life for naught

And I breathe in the filth
That keeps me alive
And wallow underneath my old thoughts

The cold, black-ink rain
Knocks on the roof
A metronome to my disease

And I contemplate
The outcome of my fate
And all that I hate within me

Though I know for sure
That I'm in my room
I want nothing more than to go home

But instead I must live
And wither away
In this pointless existence I roam

Though I don't want to die
I don't want to live
And no other feelings have spoken

I don't feel down
I feel nothing at all
And death's the only promise unbroken