I wrote this thing about two years ago for an English class thing. I quite liked it at the time; just wondered what you guys thought of it. It's not that bad really... NB: We were asked to describe a place we hated, so I went wild, and wrote something really depressive- well, at least for me. Enjoy?

Again I am here.

A deep rumble resounds through the echoing passageways that dominate my restless mind. The circular halls and twisted pillars laugh at my defeat; their carefully carved faces grin with silent laughter. The once angelic sculptures now haunt my dreams; they're not so beautiful now...

The walls that trap me in this hellish nightmare stand crooked, like the bent back of an old crone. They curve inwards to meet in a perfect arch above my head. The gloomy darkness seems to envelope my soul, my body but a matchstick in comparison to that of the dimly lit halls. The walls shine with a beauty that is hidden within, the grey moon-like sheen sparkling beneath the dull rock that hides it.

Although there is beauty in this marvellous place, there can be no happiness. There can be no joy no love no laughter. There can be nothing but the sadness that dwells in my heart and the loneliness of my dreams. Without you there is nothing.

The tiled floor below my feet is cold to the touch, it reminds me of winter. The cold snow and ice crunching underfoot. That's what it feels like... It feels like death.

At the centre of the large cavernous room resides the masterpiece. A great marble statue towers over my small form, the shape of the man that put me in this dreadful place. His face is roughly hewn from the precious rock, the eyes. They look so real. So life-like. The first time I came here I thought it was real, that my dreams had come true! My love had come to save me from impending doom. It was not until I touched the still, icy form that I felt it's coldness, saw the marbled veins that ran intricately across his magnificent brow, that I noticed. I had cried at that moment; at the crimson rose in his grasp. The flower was real, and that truth only made me cry more, harder. Every time I come to the monument of my love, a new, fresh rose has taken place of the dying withered one that I had taken away and lain at his feet.

Do you feel no shame? You stand there smiling, your handsome chiselled features forever young. Why must I come here every time you leave me? My pain is nothing compared to the guilt of these four walls. I shall never leave this place. I shall not see the light of day nor feel the sun's bright warmth across my skin. Never, until the day you come back to me.

The torch's glowing flame grows meagre. A sure sign that I shall be here until morning. No dream can take place in this nightmare-ish world, in this night-terror of a place.

Sweet dreams my love.