The Walls Of My Room Are Empty Poem by Soumili Karmakar

The walls of my room are empty,
Just like I wanted my school bag to be,
I'm out of school now, with the weight of all empty things,
I cannot confine them in a bag. And so they have occupied all of my body.
Songs are moving photo-frames.
People in it, are never stuck like they are in the photographs,
They move in, and out, like a carriage on the ropeway of my earpods,
The only one stuck, on them, is me.
I'm alright as long as they appear each time I summon them to,
I address people I miss through songs, what better way can it be?
But the time I miss myself, and hum a song, I never appear back.
The walls of my room are empty,
Just like I wanted my school bag to be.