You know... this room was a lot bigger than it used to be.
There were so many colors that filled this space, it sometimes made your head spin.
Glitter was present in every corner, and a variety of your dreams were drawn on the wall and floor!
It was a room made of pure admiration, of inspiration and liveliness.
But what's left now?
What remains of your little haven?
Who made such a mess a once vibrant headspace?
Now, you stand backed up against the last wall in your room.
Once so creative, so full of wonder and curiosity.
Your home now stained with vantablack, with the floor opening it's gaping maw to Hell's Realm.
Satan's hand pinching away at what little you have left, and his many eyes observing another hopeless specimen.
He clawed out his dreams subconsciously, and whited out the color that filled his life.
He fell into lust and sloth, and it plagued his mind until he only had one pillar left to stand on.
Every now and then, he is reminded of the desire to make it all right.
But he is Satan, thus was his own adversary to begin with.
Thus becoming his own end, thus Satan is you.
You destroyed yourself, but know that I will still pray for you.
There is nary a glimmer of hope for saving yourself, but others can still lend their hand to you.
Promise to me when that time comes; that you take the hand that reaches out to you.