Ode to the Source of My Frustration

A room in muted colors lies;
A room one could grow to despise;
A room no happiness implies;
And yet I sit and wait.

Somber, sad alone, depressed,
All potential lies at rest,
A room that cannot be possessed;
And yet I take the bait.

The table set, adornments hung,
And still the bell has not yet rung.
The happy song is not yet sung.
Are good times simply late?

Dimly lit in sepia tone,
A single light that stands alone;
Oft’ to flickering it is prone,
Neglect has caused this state.

Balloons have deflated; the light is now fading;
Repeatedly shunned, the guests are not aiding
Through dust and decay, they are no longer wading
The bitter scorn turns friendship to hate.

A wandering breeze through the room blows
Coaxing and tempting away from all woes
Alas this breeze is so strongly opposed
How quickly will it abate

Malice will slowly smother this light
It no longer has the desire to fight
Company and kindness will again it ignite
This flame could yet be great

But it is not welcome, this attempt at assistance
As much as it pushes still it meets resistance
And so the light ceases in its existence
I leave the room to determine its fate.