Private Room Poem by James McLain

I want to walk in many worlds.
While awake 'I' see but 'Death'
and it is more
than that a 'dream' of what you think
inside of me and what you found.

Withered limbs, dry shriveled lips
obnoxious gasses, held therein
more than one pair of gloves 'I'
know I wear on each wet hand,
hot glassy is each their milky eye
that likes to watch, more come.

Youth now, 'Youth' every child we
have,
that perfect 'Angel' does no wrong
'in camera' held inside some room.

My privates and rights to privacy
as fast last nights approaching
note 'I' found
out side our window, minds find
purpose you left cracked for all
your friends to find and show.

Our faces hidden, while mums hand
reached around
to find
those two reasons,
for why you were even left behind.
Full the moon.
Right there behind the blinds.

Until it was sent to my new phone.
While you Try to black mail us.
Into giving you a car, you did not earn.
While with those pictures that hang
on that far wall inside your room.
Now your four corners of the earth,
like yours it turns and burns.