The mist blinds me like it has everyone else for millenniums.
When my eyes open all I see is the wall.
The sky is farther away than freedom, and the wall is closing in.
The wall is solid and the mist becomes worse.
The mist allows my sight to disappear slowly but surely.
I strain to see as the wall closes in, my breath quickening, allowing my chest to heave up and down like a madman.
A madman, a madman!
Madness is now closing in,
All the love, all the hope, all the vision I have once dreamed up and had sight of is being taken away from me by the mist.
The wall almost smashes me.
The mist doesn’t clear.
Hope only remains even when the possibility of escape is nowhere to be found.
I am blind when I wake, always.
When my eyes close, and the pain eases from the wall-this is when I may see.
I hate the wall.
Does the wall hate me?
No one can tell.

I think the sky disappeared.