Places of None

Sitting alone

On the floor

Enclosed by four walls and open doors

Paths lead out

But all return

The stones beneath are cold and firm

It's raining out

And dark inside

Failure producing a desire to hide

Hanging head

Tired and quiet

Dying hope discouraged the fight

Thoughts stilled

No life or cares

The last future left is to take the stairs

“...this one felt like the rhythm didn't fit the subject matter – too much of a swing to it. I was trying to give it a halting, matter-of-fact, somber feeling; this is just how it came to me (I guess I just didn't want to take the time to reformat it).” - Casey