Silence, a rather quiet room and the only dull sounds that penetrate the air is the somber tick of the clock upon the wall.

No voices, not even a footstep to be heard. The occasional Creek of the wood though, brought on by the uniquely aged estate. The rooms, filled with furniture covered in white sheets, gathering dust.

Not even a simple mouse would have taken the home for a welcoming abode. The house itself is quite the piece of history, practically out of a Sherlock Holmes novel indeed. Built in the English countryside. A home for once, a young man and his new bride. A home once for the elderly, and a home once for the young and unguided. Now, Alas, the house sits, gathers ivy, and dust. Abandoned, as many feel within this life. 

Never filled with light and laughter. No music, no decor, the beauty has faded. No fireplace hung with stockings on the eve of Christmas, no kitchen filled with the scents of stuffing and pumpkin pie. No piano that once was played with joyous tune. Candles have yet to be lit for a night dark enough for lighting. The empty house is a memory, not a future thought, at least, not anymore.

When you entrust, you give. To trust someone is to allow them to be your fallback, your firm foundation. What is to happen when we trust, and that trust is torn? Shredded, broken, unrepairable. Giving your trust is something earned, a privilege. Not some right a person gets the second they shake your hand. No person is perfect, we all know that, or do we? Shouldn't we be aware that all parents are Flawed? Shouldn't we know that no lovers are perfect? Then why do we punish them? And then after why do we punish ourselves? We grow angry, frustrated, upset with others that make mistakes, how can we say we are human, if we grow to be so infuriated, even feeling hatred towards our kind for their lack of know how, their mistakes. However, we are the ones who put others in a position to have the ability to make these errors, aren't we? To be against another for the choices they make is a common emotion, but, if the choices they make are what can make them happy, and will not harm others, then how can we as human beings alike, make them regret, or hold that against them? Well, it's usually driven by selfish tendencies, fear, for lack of a better word. Fear of the consequences. Of what is, what was. We as a species, a society, make decisions that affect each other everyday, every second. Writing this right now, is the option to stay in my own chambers instead of mingling with my own family. You are making a choice to read this at this particular moment. For whatever the reason, you either elected to do this willingly, or some being as boring as I is making you read this for some random purpose, or reason. In that case, I apologize for my rather not so invigorating usage of speech. I am only trying to make a point. So, I guess I shall "cut to the chase" for my bored readers. My point being, is that we are human, and so we shall treat each other as such. But, what happens when we are primitive, savage, and downright neglecting to our own kind? We turn our backs on each other, and we degrade ourselves as well as others. So, how can we say we need others, when at the same exact time, we say we must get away?

4 people trapped together

On a deserted isle from stormy weather

Each has a Checkered past

The question is, who will last?

One hides behind a facade on a screen

Another pretending to be a silent lamb instead of the wolf they can be 

The third is a quiet soul, much less likely to defend

The final is a liar in his own skin 

The first looks for ways out, like anyone would do

The next hiding in the brush, better see who will turn on you 

The third sits on the sand and wonders what’s next

The fourth reminds himself he’s better than the rest

They each possess the knowledge to survive

Though they must band together to stay alive 

One can create a burning blaze to last the night 

One can hunt which can be a bit of a fright 

Another can craft wood to their liking 

The other is profound at climbing  

Which is which you may ask?

I'm afraid none of us will see beneath the mask.

Each take their skills and flee 

the four corners of the island is the real tragedy 

The isle so vast and empty 

Roam enough for plenty

The bitter cold that burns inside 

Leaving their souls frozen and dry 

One does not last the night,

The wood crafter lost their light 

They froze from the howling winds cold 

For their corner had fine wood but no weapon to carve or so I was told 

The other 3 lasted just fine

Though the climber certainly could wine 

Food was found that is true 

But the lack of fire was why this persons sorrow grew

The hunter did even one better and caught a boar for his feast 

Though the fierce weather forced him to create a nice coat from the poor beast 

The fire builder did alright 

Caught a fish to last the night 

The next night the waters stilled 

For no wind caused another to be killed

The climber found treetop shelter 

Before the heat began to swelter 

The shade gave way to nice cool heaven 

While the others sweat poured almost leaden 

The hunter stayed cool in the shore

but forgot something rather important i must inform

The fresh water he did lack 

Caused his life to leak from him like liquid from a wool sack 

The fire builder was smarter and purified the water 

To save from the heat that grew hotter 

The night there after

 is one for laughter 

The one in the tree finally came down 

Spotting fire from their safe and sound

When they found the heats source 

The greeting was rather coarse 

They argued and fought

 leaving the likeliness to survive all for naught 

The fire builder scorched sands 

in pursuit of the monkey like man 

The man scurried and hid 

only to be burned alive with another's wit 

The climber forgot to take note 

That trees too burn like any boat 

The fire builder did outlast 

Only to find the lagoon empty of bass 

Unable to hunt nor climb the fire builder was the final to pass this time.

The Greed of men made this tale so true 

My only question is, could it have been you? 

"Our true selves aren't revealed in words, or actions. They are shown through our secrets, our desires and fears. We hide behind the curtain of our voices, we hide the truth from view. The deepest, darkest parts of our hearts hold our most selfish wishes and pains. It is in this truth, this is how the world comes to know the real you, the real me." 

When I wrote this, I didn't realize how brutally real this was for so many people, I thought I only hid myself, and everyone else was normal, and honest. We hide because we are afraid to be judged, my writing is my most real way of staying myself in a world I want to hide in.