The Chair Poem by jonathan farrell

The chair that sits there, normally,
brings about the air.

This cold and empty, informally.
It's not the chair that makes me fear.

My mind is blamed for that;
an overwhelming, scary sensation.

This seat is meant to be sat.

I have been down here before,
sitting alone in the dark.
I climb up and down every day.

But- something pushes me back.
One day I'll reach the top,
hopefully, one day soon.

And then, the chair won't frighten me.

It will just sit there.