Inside, it is dark. There is decay, mold, and things that are falling apart. Inside, there is a smell of death slowly working its way along those walls. Inside, you are blinded, lost, and things are far and wide. Inside, you reach out but touch nothing.

Inside, it seems like an everlasting fall. Screams in agony are heard, screams so loud it hurts. Inside, there is pain. It feels cold; shivers are everlasting. Inside, you are alone. Inside this place, inside is isolation. Inside, you are not heard. Scream as you wish, but no one can hear. Inside, there is no help. Inside, no one understands. Inside, tears fall, and there is rain—cold, drenched with drops from the rain. Shivers are everlasting.

Inside, I tell you, when you are inside, you are lost, dying with each day in everlasting agony. Yet slowly, inside, you wish things were warm and things were better. Inside, thoughts are in the millions, running in a second—a million thoughts per second—only to drive you insane, wishing for silence, peace, warmth, and love. But inside, the darkness rules. There is no sleep. Inside, rest is scarce and second to none. Inside, there is nothing but torture.

Help! Wait! Stop! Inside… Slowly, I ease my eyes open, scared of opening them. The sun is bright, touching the walls, slowly, eventually laying back down. Looking up, hating the inside of that place, embracing the warmth and reaching for strength, I close my eyes.

Only a dream of the inside. Only a dream. Inside.