The Room

My room allows no comfort past its walls,
For my radiating contempt has built them so high.
Not a sound nor a beam of light can enter through the top;
No being of any sort can enter through the sides.
What is contained in the room is nothing of importance—
Not a single thing of culture; not a single religious find.
Yet, the walls have always continued to grow and grow,
Despite the severe lack of anything inside.