A Cheap Office Chair
Old books in rows line my room, dusty and musty as my old life goes on.
Pages worn with turning, the learned weary from the learning.
The old computer desk, cracked and scraped like an old tree fallen down in some great forest.
With only the ceiling fan turning, my mind sits stagnant alone with its body, limp in a cheap office
chair.
My head droops to the side, my brain slowly drips from my ears, and pools on the floor.
Just as my consciousnesses hits the floor, my dog perks up her ears at the smell of fresh food.
She prances down and laps me up with her pink tongue going in and out of her fury smiling face,
then turns up to me in gratitude.
Pages worn with turning, the learned weary from the learning.
The old computer desk, cracked and scraped like an old tree fallen down in some great forest.
With only the ceiling fan turning, my mind sits stagnant alone with its body, limp in a cheap office
chair.
My head droops to the side, my brain slowly drips from my ears, and pools on the floor.
Just as my consciousnesses hits the floor, my dog perks up her ears at the smell of fresh food.
She prances down and laps me up with her pink tongue going in and out of her fury smiling face,
then turns up to me in gratitude.
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