Day Three

Two days have passed. The air here still quivers with silent screaming and is icy with sorrow. As I exhale, my breath thickens before me and massive clouds shape. I watch in admiration, following the movement with my eyes until -at last- the clouds disappear completely. My attention shifts toward the foggy window located down the dim corridor where my frozen breath had once roamed - that is until the clouds broke free. Small lines race down its surface, droplets wiping away the haze, to reveal bits and pieces of the overgrown courtyard beyond. I cannot recall the last time I had seen the outdoors, let alone set foot on nature itself. These small glimpses are a welcome change.
I let out a small smile and sit on one of the nearby benches scattered down the hall. The cold wood and metal dig into my back, but I ignore the discomfort for the most part and focus my attention on my reading. From above a hissing sounds, effectively drowning out the silent screams. I look up from my reading - first to the ceiling and then the window. The clear trails increase rapidly across the glass. Smiling, I lean my head back and close my eyes. The heavy book slips from my fingers and drops with a knock onto the wooden floor. Peace -- a welcome change indeed.

Day One

Cold air nips at my lungs. My heavy steps breathe life unto the dusty hardwood floor below. I allow my eyes free roam across the rusted ceiling plates above. My fingertips trace the patterned wall at my side; my eyes switch focus. Eerie silence screams into my ears. Humming a soft tune is all I can hope to do to preserve my sanity. Memories, constantly playing themselves out, they live in these walls. Her screams will never die, yet hope clings to my heart. Perhaps one day her pains will ease. Perhaps one day I'll escape. Until then, I can only hope -pray- this cruel mistress of mine shows mercy.

Mother

Mother, mother
Oh, her glassed over eyes
How they sent chills down my spine...

Longing

heart racing. time stands still.
longing. oh, the longing.

Unspoken Truth

Known, yet unknown. 
Remembered, yet forgotten.
Not one dares speak of it.
Lest they face the wrath.
Now the dust collects...