A brisk morning. An open laptop. Sage growing indoors. That's what I see. A soccer goal ripped from dogs chewing on it. A bookshelf sagging as it carrys pounds and pounds. A christmas tree next to a menorah. Thats what I see. A once precious stuffed animal now a dog toy. My dogs Ash and Royal lying on the coach as their ears perk up at the sound of another dog barking. Markers thrown across the floor. That's what I see. And I'm happy to be me in this big messy home with my family. 

What color were the walls before the room was filled with stars?

Green, maybe peach, but now they are black with purple splotches
and filled with stars.

What was in the room before it was filled with stars?

A bed, maybe a dresser, but now it is filled with nothing but
stars.

How high was the ceiling before the room was filled with stars?

Six feet, maybe seven, but now it is
neverending, and we look up into the heavens, our eyes filled with stars. 

~

Hmmm, I'm really not sure about the last line. "and I look up" "and you look up" were what I was thinking of adding before, but maybe the "and we look up" fits better. 

Sherry says "oawha". Inspiring commentary, Sherry. 

I
clear away the drops of moisture from the window. Outside the window, fog
swirls around the trees. Even though the trees are just across from my house, I
can barely even see their black, naked branches. I’ve never seen as much fog as
this. I sigh whimsically, sipping warm mint tea. Unlike my beverage, outside
must be cold. I hate the cold. I open the window. The frosty fog dances in. I
breathe in the chilling but refreshing mist, it tastes like the clouds, silence,
and wonder. I close the window, and sip cold mint tea with a hint of mist and
magic. 

I wrote some non-rhyming poetry.

I am hiding from the world,

from the truth,

from life.

Purposeless,

constantly wondering,

yet never finding answers.

the only understanding of life is now lost,

to all,

all but one. 

You ask who.

You already know. 

Go,

revive the earth,

make justice and peace be know from sea to sea. 

And then,

I will come out.

Come home. 

when the day begins

and dawn's fingers can touch the sky

but not quite grasp it

leaving rosy streaks like 

melted dreams sifting through the cosmos

is when you seem to float

in between sleep and waking

your soul hovering

ever so slightly above the earth

hazy fragments of dreams

fading from your mind

leaving only slight impressions 

of what they used to be

until your eyes open

and you are snapped back

down to the ground

a hairline fracture splintering your soul

from the weight of reality

that you can never escape

unless

one day

when your soul is shattered and 

crumbling

and you can't bear to open

your eyes again

you decide to stay here

floating in the undefined in-between

so you

don't

open

your

eyes

~~~~

writing angsty poetry at 1am lol. btw this was written in the comments box on the spot and it unedited; it's not meant to be good, I just needed to get some emotions out so yeah.