Stuck, Cemented

Cornered into a section of your mind where no one could or would ever go

Sealed up in a backwards dimension where nobody can hear your sreams

Where you could beg, strave, die  and no one would care

Solitude, where your mind and your books are your only friends

Where you have no idea what to feel sometimes,

Or you get so bored, you wonder about the inevitable, death

When you think you'll be lost in the dark

A pariah trapped in a pitch-black cavern, soundless as a morgue, aimless and alone with her engulfing speculations