Stewing away in this room. These four white walls will be my tomb. Hating what you do to do what you love. Biting my tongue, clenching my fists. Cast away, trying to coexist. The normality of routine and expectations. What would you know of tribulations? Manufactured and controlled. Everything you've come to know. Manufactured and controlled. Everyone you've come to know. Everything has its end. No one will have a helping hand to lend.