the mind feels trapped. the illusion of happiness slowly eroding. the promised greater days non existent, only nights seem to be of salvation. unable to comprehend the surroundings, unable to admire the beauty of this world. the camera lay dead in its own prison. its pixels loosing their magical abilities.
the mind feels abbreviated. every action seems to be measured. every action are asked to be measured. days flipping into tomorrow slowly closes one memory after the other, as fear takes over and crushes every desire. every dream seems to be in forever dusk. every dream, like the books strewn in the dungeon unread, dies the moment they are born.
the mind decays. once the playground full of life. once the creators of life, now seeking every bit of life, among the many dead that walks by.