Poems

Mad.

I sit in a empty room, void of any colour, 
There is no furniture, no decor,
Just me sitting alone.
The stark white of the room taunting me with its glare,
The loud noise of silence making my head turn.
I start going mad,
Seeing visions of people dancing,
Fair Maydena in stunning gowns twirling around handsome lords in fancy suits.
Calming music plays, soothing the weary and the damned,
I stand,
Starting to twirl with a young man in a rumpled blue suit,
Suddenly the music stops.
The deafening silence returns,
DThe dancers disappear.
The white again stares at me, taunting me,
Trying to make me think of the room with dancers,
And how much I wished to b e like them,
Instead I'm here in my wrap around gown,
Staring at these white walls.