The Attic

The boy sits in the attic. 

A little different than everyone else,

he sits in the attic by himself. 

Lost in a tangle of thoughts and dreams, 

he could get out of the attic. 

But he doesn't,

Not in this confusing world of judgment. 

He sits in retrospect,

reflecting on the past that wasn't meant to be. 

In the confusing world of judgment,

he sits in retrospect.

In the Wonderland-type style,

he sits on an embellished,

magniloquent table.

He will not go downstairs,

with twitchy feelings and a demoralized brain,

nor down to the garden,

nor down to the bedchamber.

He will not go. 

He is an introvert.

He will sit in his own thoughts, 

thinking of the past. 

He sits in retrospect. 

He sits alone.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741