"I sit alone in my melancholy mansion, pondering a winter's dreary, nodding, nearly napping, when at my chamber door there comes a rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
I wear this hat of green, hear many names called out for from across the happy kingdom, while I, in my gloomy forest residence, reside in a dark, cold room of my own despair.
I sometimes visit the freezer room, down in the cellar, to attribute a physical feeling to the deep empty loneliness I feel during every waking second.
The fury at my own trapping in this rotten homestead builds like pressure in an ancient volcano, ready to burst forth with seething magma and debris unto the gentle folk of my sanity.
But here I still dwell, waiting for the day that a queen in a shining dress sallies forth on her beautiful white steed and carries me away from this mansion, this forest,