It is the one across the hall

Manuscripts and unfinished poems,
Dust and pain,
Left upon a shelf,
Too high to reach.
Bloodstained sheets nobody sees.
Yesterday and today is lost again.
 
Shelves of emails,
From bullies and critics.
A trunk was full of dark thoughts.
Holes full of dreams,
That is no longer nice.
Rats and mice running around in my head.
 
Dagger and razor,
Therefor pain.
Musical chairs,
Played by the insane.
Tarot cards and forgotten old photographs.
Keys without locks,
And those knowing stares.
 
The ship lost at sea,
In my oceans of the mind.
Maps of the stars, that no longer shine,
Or treed the boards.
Soldiers of fortune,
Prisoners of never heard of wars,
And a fool on a hill, singing out of tune.
Strange thoughts alone, but you never saw.
 
Telephones that never ring twice,
Caller unknown,
Deserts of lost souls,
A dog without a bone, the cat lost in the storm,
Souvenirs nobody wanted but me,
Treasure of the past,
Nobody cares or really wants to see,
Or it could be a load of junk,
I surround myself with.
 
Who gives a ****, how alone I am, in my ****ed up head?