Rather than dying a vicious, unrelenting death,

Being plunged into dark corners of unexplored territory,

Falling victim to those who cannot be trusted,

Leaving too early or too late,

I am afraid of falling asleep,

and waking up in the backrooms,

Where each smooth wall is the same sad shade of beige,

Each slightly tinted window is perfectly parallel and proportional,

Where each day has become the last and the next,

Desperately, I crave a life,

Where each day is new,

Where the faces I see,

The voices I hear,

The stories being told,

The worlds around me,

Are not familiar,

Give me a life that I can live,

Give me the air I want to breathe,

Don’t let me end up in the backrooms