The Lonely Scholar - the dawn of a dystopic society by conformation

In dusty halls, where knowledge once did gleam,
A solitary figure, lost in thought, it seems.
His eyes, once bright with hope, now filled with pain,
A prisoner of loneliness, confined by chains.
He wanders through the stacks, a ghost amidst the books,
His heart, a heavy stone, that no solace brooks.
The pages rustle softly, whispering of days gone by,
A haunting melody that makes him sigh.
He sits alone, a scholar in despair,
His mind, a labyrinth, filled with doubt and care.
The world outside, a blur, a distant dream,
His only comfort, the pages that he'll glean.
The library, his sanctuary, his refuge, his retreat,
A place where he can hide, from the world so sweet.
But even here, he finds no peace, no joy, no light,
Just endless darkness, and a lonely night.
He dreams of friends, of laughter, of a life so free,
But in this lonely world, he'll always be.
A solitary soul, lost in the endless night,
A scholar doomed to wander, without any light.