"Under the Back Stairwell"

Isolation in the lowest form.

Graffiti, cigarette butts, and dust mingle amongst the words of others forced to these depths.

Your voice echoes from one floor to another, punctuated with doors opening and closing.

Can you not conceive of my existence stooped beneath the layers of concrete below you?

Isn't that the point?

You offer me no disruption.

Your lack of concern for me is what put me here, and what keeps me here.

I am only found by those as desperate as me, because only they have reason to be here.

We are then both found out, a deathly silence passes, and an unspoken agreement made.

No word to anyone about how pitiful and degraded we are, hiding in the bottom of the stairwell to vent ourselves clean.

You would never understand, your life is too boring and lacking in substance.

You see my happy shield and don't consider my depths.

Life for you poses no problem, but at least I have a core.

You cannot understand me, or the thoughts that I have ricocheted between these walls.

Visit here sometime, feel the unnatural cold of the concrete beneath you.

Perhaps understand the belittling feeling of having to crouch under the stairs to remain undetected.

Most of all, understand that you forced me into this corner.

~Náufrago