With every move of my mop I am dying. People are stepping on me as they step on the garbage lying on the floor.

I am walking in a haunted land
full of voices.
Too many voices
and not enough faces to claim them.

I am disturbed by so many shadows.
No sun to make them.
Not even a moon to erase them.

I am drowning in waters
full of corpses.
Each one pulling me down
into the darkness.

Trapped in a well of raging night,
joy has lost all meaning here.
Claw marks on these walls of stone,
sign my fate away…