I stand in darkness turning ’round and ’round
penned in an octagonal room
of familiar faces
all glaring
all grinning
all shouting
all hating
I would try to break free
if I could escape the outstretched arms
hungry for me
yearning to crush out my last breath
revolutions accelerate
the faces
the arms
the voices
are naught but a blur of hatred
I fall to my knees
accepting never to be released.

© Crystal S. McDonald.