Stockholm

People spoke of hell as a place of bright fires and flickers

But she could say that hell was black and white

Black and with white walls

Black and white clothes

Even black and white land

In this place where the sun never touched

Black and white

Black and white

Black and white

Colors could drive one mad

Then he walks in

With his black hair and pale skin

Clothes of black and white as well

But she looked forward to him so

For his pair of forest eyes

Eyes that held no emotion but so much color

As he strode into her cell

She place those eyes with their flecks of hunter and halcyon into her memory

He never says more than a few orders for her to follow

Then turns his back and leaves

She waits with baited breath for her color to return