In the shadowy depths of a desolate land,
in the heart of a darkness forgotten by man,
where the secrets of sorrow are silently kept
in the lingering memories of tears that are wept.

There's an empty white room without windows or doors.
Inside sits a child curled up on the floor.
With his knees to his chin and his hair in his hands
while he struggles with thoughts he cannot understand.

In the peak of his youth he was free to explore
so he focused his time on the search to know more.
It tickled his brain but he kept what he saw
so he then could pretend to make sense of it all.

But the more he discovered the less sense it made.
Until everything tangible started to fade.
And deeper he dove in the folds of his mind
while the passion he lived for fell further behind.

Existence had shifted and twisted his thinking
where reason was lost and his sanity sinking
and all which was once so incredibly clear
had evolved into mad, indescribable fear.

So he pondered and wandered upon his decision
to start the construction with utmost precision
this room without windows or doors but begin
from the outside and build with himself left within.

And when finished he felt just as empty inside
as the room where he now could eternally hide.
While the world moves on leaving this boy oblivious,
alone and engulfed in the bliss of his ignorance.

Haunted by thoughts that entangle his mind
and a deafening maddness intensly entwined.
So he waits with a fixated gaze on the walls
in a desperate attempt at forgetting it all.

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