My Room, a poem by Julia Marcus, 13

My Room

Julia Marcus, 13

Four faded white walls,
two open windows,
two closed doors,
three paintings,
one whiteboard,
and just one human being.

That would be me.
Me sinking into the cushions of the couch,
me curled on my left side in my bed,
me sprawled out across the floor.

Staring at the three pictures on the wall,
or the various little items pinned to the corkboard,
or rereading a book from the bookshelf,
or scribbling something with an Expo marker.

This is where I have spent
most of the past five months.
And where I have lived
for four or five years.
Where I have come
for solace
and where I have celebrated
small victories.

It is a place
embedded with my personality
and could show anyone
with a single glance
around the room
who this person named me is.
What I am.
And most importantly,
where I am.