The Purple Room.

He scrawls, he scribbles, but never writes,
He crawls, he cripples, but never walks.
White all around, boxed around, the unending chain
He thinks, he forces his mind, but never forgets,
The Brain a cobweb, a slice of pie.

He paints purple, turns it around, but never leaves.
Thoughts constricted, thoughts constrained, within the walls
He adds a door, a window to see the world,
But still the walls contain him, conflicting his thoughts.
The Brain a cobweb, A slice of pie.

Purple all around, he feels the chill, he feels the warmth,
Purple all around, he feels the death, he feels the Loose,
Tries to step out, but the walls do grow,
To contain him, to capture him, never to leave
The Brain a cobweb, A slice of pie.