On the floor in the dark room,
The occasional lightbulb flicker
Brings some hope back into my blue-glazed eyes,
But it's a mere distraction.
I imagine that the lightbulb can see;
Awake when it's shining,
In the light I seem free,
My body moves. My voice, it speaks.
Speaks like the one it once belonged to,
Before the locked room lost its key.
The bulb will never see
The girl on the ground,
Or the shelves that collapse
Silently, as tears tie her down.
So why am I surprised,
That the lightbulb never stays?
Through its eyes, the room is a palace
With a princess, troubles seemingly erased.
How would it know of the dungeon
That is formed where she lays?
Darkness, once more.