These are the first three stanzas of a poem I wrote a few years ago based on a chapter in a book I wrote and am now re-writing. It's a little depressing, but it describes the part in the story from the FMC's point of view.

All around me is white.
Piercing, blinding, eternal blank
All my emotions have slowly sank
Deep into the everlasting walls
That seem to swell in these bright halls.

I have the sudden urge to kill
Though my blood will not spill
My tears they shed of the past
A sign of hope, I see at last.

A patch of grass so white and fine
White as snow, the tree is mine
The fruit will keep me live and well
Until I die my soul will dwell.