Sitting down,
On the floor.
In a room where,
There is no door.
To the wall,
Is where I stair.
I am in a room,
A cube, a square.

Just plain white sealing,
White floor, white walls.
An in this place,
There is no sound, no calls.

My clothes are none,
My thought are empty.
But white brightness,
There is plenty.

What is this place?
Why am I here?
I feel of nothing,
And nothing I fear.

I turn my head and look around,
And it is clear that I, the peer,
Am amazing obviously in,
A cubeular square.