Lights and sounds come from every direction, with no particular place to go. Outside is so foreign anymore, haven't felt the rain on your face or wind in your hair in months. Wishing of another time when things didn't look so bleak. You lay in the bed, praying the end but now know the agony of defeat. A visitor arrives as you stand there and cry knowing you will never leave.
Created: Aug 01, 2010Document Media