White , cushion walls surrounded the small cubic room of the hospital. A slightly soft kind of whiteness painted the previously referenced walls like an oil painting of an artist's newly created masterpiece .
And yet , every crease of this very room was implanted into her brain similar to your classic, archaic metal stamps that have rusted over time. Such saddening environments of pure nothingness. Devoid of life or soul on the exception of her decaying morality. Ah. It's truly terrible, no? Stuck in an empty and confined room that's only reason of existence is to snatch away the fraction of you joy and soul. An insanity it is! Most disgusting and hateful as it is, what choice did she ever have? All forms of free will and hope turn off like a light. Disappearing as quickly as it came, a life like this can and shall only be described as 'pitiful' .
She hated this chalk colored room of void, despised it even . After all , could you blame her? Insanity is just another layer of the horrors survived.
If you were to obscure all background sounds and listen close, you may just hear the shattering of the frail and precious heart. Yet, even a broken heart still pulsates and beats in sorrow like the sounds of stepping and dancing elegantly on shattered glass.
YOU ARE READING
Thought Up Stories
RandomI keep writing more and more books but most of these are stories or sort of descriptions and half descriptions for stories. They probably come from a journal I have in English class from school since we do some creative writing, so sometimes I'll ha...
