'I come from...' - Poem Exercise

I come from a room
where patterned wallpaper is sickly sweet to the eye.
A chrous of worlds, and painted castles,
with little, lifeless statues, that think for themselves
and have thier own mysteries and adventures
which sat on an island on a carpet sea.
I come from a world of texts,
where I glide across folds of paper
and trail down each line of bumpy ink.
Where large, purple headphones are worn,
allowing booming music to contrast,
and to help escape a harsh reality
with the hope that dream and wonder
will take its course.
And although facts and figures must be dominant,
colourful paintbooks still linger nearby.