There's velvet lining on a woven silk floor,
mirrored ceilings, and I can't find the door.
My peaceful palace, once plainly placate,
was fearfully empty, everyone within did vacate.
Though I too, tried to leave the room,
I foudn that my palace had become my doom.
I'd stand and run, crawl and cry,
No longer fun, waiting to die.
My hands are shaking, my heart is racing.
My body's aching, my mind needs replacing.
Then the velvet floor coils with a hiss;
it lashes out, it never does miss.
Entangled in the snarling calm,
I reach for freedom, extend my palm.
Those who would grab it would fall in too,
but I never realized what I got them into.
I begged for freedom, bargained and lied.
Many years passed, time had flied.
I grew tired of the struggle to float,
and with droll numbness, my mind did coat.
I fell once again, wishing to live no more,
then let go, sank deep into the velvet floor.
My only escape was not the door.