Waking up at midnight <br />in a room without a view, <br />taking up a book, you find <br />no pages to look through. <br /> <br />You bang upon the bleak grey walls <br />that bound your tiny room, <br />but Echo is the only friend <br />that answers through the gloom. <br /> <br />“How did it ever come to this? ” <br />you ask yourself in pain - <br />but cannot even hear your voice <br />for endless driving rain. <br /> <br />You yourself built this heartless space <br />from mortar and hard bricks <br />to guard against a cruel world, <br />to kick against the pricks. <br /> <br />Now, in this bed you’ve made, you lie <br />as evermore you must, <br />until your life shall pass away <br />and crumble into dust. <br /> <br />Too late you find that this our world <br />can never be shut out <br />except by sentencing your soul <br />to dark eternal drought.<br /><br />Rory Hudson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-room-without-a-view-2/
