I sit and stare, at the dorms’ ugly wooden chair,
While pondering on thoughts that I wouldn’t dare,
That play in the outside world.
My thoughts and heart ache for the attention of this particular girl.
We yell; we dance; we laugh, until our eyes grow old.
I’m eager to warm her heart, which was once bitter cold.
But, this will never come true,
Because I sit and write these events in my small dormitory room.
Its surrounding walls symbolize my fear,
To manifest the story, that our children would love to hear.