Cold, empty, and barren
And the door of this room is closed
Cracks are running down these walls
And this structure is surely deteriorating 
Broken, tired furniture scattered all about
The bed covered in restless sheets
Cold wooden floors, like ice to the touch
Grayish vague photos hung up in confusion
Light shines in only for a brief moment, and finds itself
rare 
The walls are weak as if to fall in upon themselves
The lock is useless, the key overused, abused, and
forgotten.
The window is shut and hope has left.