oil stained walls garnish the room

like stained windows they create a gloom

the shadows of the world sorround

like a note of literature

or a script of all knowledge never found

written on a tarnished old rag

creates the illusion of ones diminished

numbers fill the room

a riddle to never be finished

with no time to solve the equation

time slows ,this world soon freezes

the fixations of reality

soon becomes the fast time fatality

with screams never heard

oblivious to those with which dont think of words

sitting waiting in the corner

on the floor

eyes wide open one shout his heard

lust or love

pian or hate

dreams or stories

are the numbers that now fill the room

all that was to be told

to those with blind hearts

faithless souls

see the pain written all over the wall