Bane

Drew triangles on the ground,
Dictate my run, walk and stop.
Sometimes even go backwards,
Where I meet my only theme,
All I ever think about. With purples,
Dripping down walls of remorse
Built by fault of nature.
Blue floors that those purples met,
Spotted an impossible pattern
You turned your back on.
Faced a wall with a hole shot through,
Made you feel whole inside.
It's what you were missing.
And I glued myself to the ceiling,
Waiting for your judgments light,
Stuck in this dull room,
One I've grown to despise.