The wet puddles were the only company I had,

And even those were drying up.

No animals that I can speak to,

No trees that I can speak to with my hands.

The weeds I first saw turned yellow,

Their posture turning to an angle. 

The dry sand felt coarse on my feet,

As if mocking me for straying away from my group.

The non-moving sun loomed high above me,

Removing all the shadows that wished to give me company.

Branches on the desert floor pinch me as I walk,

Making me hope for a dog to play fetch with.

The clouds that were my imaginery friend disappeared,

Leaving an empty darken blue sky with no imagination.

All that is around me is the imprint of my footsteps,

That the wind never bothered to make disappear.

I can heard planes soaring above,

but everytime I look up,

the sound and sight are never to appear.

My five senses left because of nothing to report,

no sound, no taste, no smell, no touch, no sight.

Not even a made up idea,

but even that, would be impossible to make.

For my mind is empty, just like this confinement.