She was encapsulated in the reverie, engraved
In each subtle stich, belonging to the beauty
Of this forgotten room, at the end of a hollow hall,
She has been here, keeping these walls in an elegance
Which has never been seen before, yet, it exists,
Far beyond the utterance, alone and deprived,
Holds its wallpaper, hugged tight, a full room
Within an overpopulated house, so many visitors
But non, have wandered, down to this room,
A small loose thread, suddenly appears to her,
Far in the high corner, a thick web has grown
Corrupting the room, as tears in the wallpaper
Start to emerge, as she knocks on the walls
Begging for anyone, to notice, to find her deserted,
As the room continues to loose its vibrance, it sheds
All that she designed, the tears getting deeper,
Until she becomes empty, lost in a dirty empty room,
No longer, does the room have a desire to hold,
No longer, does it keep up appearances,
The decor, decays to dust, leaving the barren walls,
The design was perfect, although, she was fragile,
Being shoved, further into away from being seen,
She fell into a drowning existence,
Only to escape from the room, on her own again,
One day, she’ll have another room to design.
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