I walked into my old room dust thick in the air

I walked into my old room, dust thick in the air,

a faded star wallpaper peeling from the wall.

The bed still sits there, half-formed dreams in disrepair,

while shadows of childhood still linger, still call.

Toys stacked like memories, stacked high in the dark,

each one a story, a piece of my heart.

I touch the dresser, its edges chipped and worn,

remnants of laughter, of battles fought and lost.

The echo of joy feels distant, now muted,

as if the light has dimmed, the colors diluted.

But in this cocoon, I feel both young and old,

haunted by fragments of stories left untold.