All my movements echo through the dirty place I am in.

The floor and the walls are no longer white.
I guess I am here for a long time.
I feel I am alone, but I see ghosts sometimes.

I don't remember anything before the last stairs.
I just see distorted images through this glass.
There are so many lamps here
But they don't light anything,
Only burn my eyes.

I can barely hear some moans and dins
That are not by myself...

There is an open door in the end of this corridor,
I can not reach it,
But I can see there is only emptiness after...

I saw a feather on the floor,
Kept it with me, and could feel the blood of the animal on the little gray feather.

I am transparent and I can see my veins,
But I see there is no blood inside.

Still remember those fucking eyes
That never look at me.