As I look into the poorly lit room, it whispers to me
The cluttered floor whispers of someone who spends too much time doing nothing
The pictures tell me of nostalgia, of a longing for things of the past
The dusty window panes speak of little use of the refreshing outside air
The dusty statuettes of holy figures tell me of someone who is struggling with her faith
The blocked mirror speaks of someone who loathes reflections and fears the darkness her thoughts will bring her
The string of lights whisper of someone who loses herself in fantasies
The shelves crammed with books speak of someone who is curious and longs for something more
There are whispers of happy days
Whispers of dark days too
Overall there are whispers of someone who tries too hard to be true