Poetry;
Where your life exists in four walls of rust, and falling. It’s a desultory circle. Sad yet poetic. You could write about it, describe it in words afew. Make it seem like a paradise in it's confine. You are trapped still, but you could describe it as a prison cell. Maybe that of your mind, the confined four walls. You could describe it as a paradise though, the prison cell with a little window atop. With the golden sun shining through, with its remaining golden gleam. With the calloused hands trying to reach the sun, through that very window atop. But it never happens because it's too far away. But maybe once in a day, when darkness and gold collide. Form hues of a momentous rainbow, inside the walls of the prison cell. Which is ultimately your own mind, with it's confined, rusting walls. It is. While those walls last, you could describe a moment as forever, when you saw the rainbow.
