I am walking through this room thinking,
Why am I here?
this crowd is not a familiar one,
Nor is it a friendly one.
They turn on me quckly and are unrelenting in their stares.
How I ended up here is a mystery and leaves me intrigued
Did I get here by free will?
Was I somehow drawn by the promise of a good time?
I have wandered too far and somehow,
if I do not get out of here,
I will be turned inside out By the non accepting eyes,
watching me pace through this room warily.
These people convey ill feelings for outsiders effectively,
Their eyes burn through me, like a knife through butter.
I must leave but any sudden moves would be fatal.
The exit is too far and getting further by the second.
I feel that I am slowly losing my cool
I may break down before this ordeal is over,
giving them reason to pounce,
finishing me once and for all.
They can sense my eventual slip in composure,
they are circling.
I must muster up the courage to soldier on,
to fight off the butterflies,
even though they are breathing down my neck,
intimidating me; the prey.
Why can I not die so it can be over quickly.
They want me to suffer; it is all part of the plan.
Make me sweat,
make me feel inferior before the final stroke,
the major blow to my efforts of survival.
I go to run but nothing happens,
I am stuck to the floor,
legs numb.
My mind racing but My body is frozen.
I want to explode,
break out and be done with this room,
but nothing goes right for me.
I am doomed.
The room is now spinning and there is no way to stop it.
This will be my final resting place.
My time is numbered.
My knees will hit the ground,
and the vultures will feast on my slowly dying body.
There is no way to stop it,
My body cannot take this much stress.
But then, I start to think,
is this a huge joke?
Have I been made a fool of?
I play this thought through my head,
I feel myself start to form a smile on my face.
I couldn’t be more scared if I tried
But now I find humour in almost certain death
What is it that suddenly wants to spring out in laughter?
Is it a defence mechanism trying to give me a cool head?
Maybe it’s the adrenaline pumping,
heightening my senses,
giving me a new found strength.
Or maybe it’s my shaking hands that my mind finds funny.
Whatever it is, it is almost spilling out of me,
that’s when this hostile audience will spring into action.
Or will they?
Now I doubt the situation.
Have I just made all this hostility up in my head?
