Some try to hide,
others expose their pain.
But each within alone
and waiting to be touched.

Jailed, sanctuaried,
but empty.
Only containing
what is brought
into the realm.
Breaking down, into nothing
numbing, maddening and real.

They were silent,
always battling
with the chameleon room
and heaven, and hell,
and themselves.

Hazy, not warm nor cold.
cornerless, soft, no windows.
A voice we hate
tells us nothing
that we're nothing at all
just right
or so wrong.

You decide when you enter
and feel your true self
or what you want.

Jailed, sanctuaried,
but you're empty.
Only containing what you bring
into your realm.
You're breaking down
into nothing.
Numbing, maddening,
you can't feel