The despair factor

Along the path where the stream is talking, I breathe the mist and continue walking. The wood it whispers in a language of it's own. As a sigh escaped my lips, I feel the light caress of fingertips that, steal away the breath and leave me on my own. Waiting by the stairs. (Waiting, I despair) Waiting, I despair. (Waiting by the stairs) My whole life is a dark room. One, big, dark room. Do I hear the hollow sound, Footsteps resounding on this frozen ground, Or the familiar disappointment of the echoes of my own? Waiting by the stairs. (Waiting i despair) Waiting, I despair. (Waiting by the stairs)