It's like an old, wooden stairwell that lets out a creak every time you step.
Alerting you where you're headed,
as if it was meticulously crafted to track your descent into;

The depths of yourself.

No wonder it gets darker, for what you find doesn't illuminate.
The partial regression, piece by piece,
reduces your desire to retrace your steps from;

Where you began.

I only ever turn around if there's something I forgot at the top.