Once I walked into a room
It was dark inside, and silent.
Dark like the darkness where the world seems asleep.
Silent like the silence where the people seem mouthless.

I turned and felt around
But my hands felt only the air
That was thin like the thinness of a delicate, sheer tissue
Used to wipe a tear from a sallow, frail face.

I turned the other way and sniffed the air
But the cold only left me feeling dry and sick
Like the sickness that leads to days of lying still in a plain bed
Before dying and reaching a dead, dead end.

And I fell.  Tripped. Stumbled against a wall. 
I touched a light switch and flicked it upwards in anxiety.
The light -- oh, the light!  So bright, so cheery! 
The room -- so happy!  So full of hope! 

That is, until I look around. 

And the door is gone.