The door opened with a creak

Suddenly all of the forgotten memories rushed back to me

Some unwanted

I peered at all of the collected dust

This was once a lively place

A place of laughs and occasional cries

My attachment to this room was acrane

I had long been arthist to come back here

I was just too afraid of how it would make me feel

My eyes began to fill to the brim with tears

at the the sight of my old record player

It was a elysian shade of pink

Thinking of all of the ephemeral joys of childhood was tugging on the frail strings of my tampered heart

I slightly chuckled at the slipshod painting job me and my younger sister did

I laid in my old twin size bed remenising in the past

Too bad childhood is a smaller portion to life than adult hood