Happily spread out on my bed,
With the sweet music of Coldplay ringing in my ears,
"I miss you!"
And I stare out into the bland lawns of,
My own personal, Suburbia.
Boredom an everlasting characteristic,
But sometimes taken over by stress and work.
Happiness is a rare soul,
That finally paid a visit to my front door.
I get up and walk around,
Stare at my reflection in my mirror,
Shrug off any annoyances,
And wander to my bookshelf, where I drown—
Into the wonderful world of what else,
But Harry Potter.
Magic, enchantment, and horror,
But laughing along the way,
With happiness, my friend, by my side.
Oh sweet home Suburbia—
Given me my most trivial desires,
A life filled with Coldplay and HP
But denies me an existence of wonder,
And exciting destiny.
New York, Hollywood, movie stars and authors,
Chaos and adventure, new things and nothing's sure
What happened to all that I admired?
I look at my room: boombox, computer, bed…
Pictures of friends' laughter captured in frames,
Smiles of a little girl and looks of her parents.
I then grin, for what else do I need?
I fall on my bed,
Satisfied, with my friend Happiness.