I could get lost in that room. I could never leave it again and the things that would come from there the colors that would shine from it's darkened windows and torn drapery would light up the world and cast color into the shadows where once only darkness lived. I could stay there and never come out again and lose my self to her and to him and shut the door on the cries of everyone.
Sometimes I walk around a ghost, just a shell of my self with a painted mask and puppet arms. I am not here I am in that room with the doors shut tight and drapes pulled closed so that only the glow of this computer screen lights up my eyes. So far away from home forgetting to enjoy what's around me locked with key in hand in here, in that room in the woods, the one that resides in my head, where the weeds grow tall and walls are bare.