It’s too quiet in here.
I can hear myself cry, and hiss out words that usually come as mumbles.
It was once a place of serenity.
It was once the place of my joy,
but now I find it only to contain an inescapable hell.
It’s a place filled with shadows,
and a place filled with comfort.
My temple and my asylum,
my punishment and my reward.
This place smells of candles overcome with the misuse of lysol in a can.
I cannot leave.
The plans of my future are my gate out,
the dependency of my state of mind are my chains.
I have built this place with my heart,
but hope to destroy it with my determination.
I have lost my rock in here,
and beg not to loose myself as well.
It is the place where I begin my days and where they come to an end.
Here is where my love grows, and my inner demons arise.
In my room,
that is where the new beginings commence,
and where the cold despair of my true self emerges.