Remember me, library
There are revolving doors.
There are marble floors.
There are busy people reading quiet tomes of times no more.
The woman at the desk asks me if I need anything.
I tell her that even one so studied as she can't help me find what I want.
Here in this silent hall, only the dead call out to me.
The windowless walls that keep me here rot, yet I cannot break them down.
I remain until I have what I seek, what I sought, what I seemed to have
Come here for, but what was it?
​
The dust is getting to me now I've been here forever the endless halls and pages taunt me they trick me I revisit them though I've done so many times before I've been bound to their bindings I am unable to leave them unattended and alone for when they are alone I am not and the guilt of it all is killing me. I'd rather die alone than they. Remember me, library.