Written on these walls are the stories that I can't explain

Erm, probably because these walls weren't claim.
I see nothing on these walls, nothing anda can recall.
A clean slate with no make.
No story to excite my sensory.
But I guess empty can tempt me
to keep this jest up, but I must fess up,
I need to sleep. For deep sleep I must reap.

Tell me

The stories
That are too painful
For anda to hear
And for me to tell you,
For nothing good is
Written on these walls.