i sit in a room;

a black, blank room.

i sit there;

thinking,

wondering,

breathing softly.



i remember the warm breezes in the

spring;

the freedoms of summer.

surrounded by the refreshing aroma of

corn on the cob and hot dogs



now,

with school

and the coming of snow,

this place

is like a volcano erupting.

the room is blowing up,

with me drowning inside.



there is also a heat in my prison,

mingling with a cold, musty feeling

that surrounds me.

it shall see my finish in the race of

life.

no light can ever enter this room,

for it is closed forever.



then my mind spins.

i wonder;

what can i do;

what can i do?

again

i realize;

nothing can be done,

for nothing was done.



must be like the tortoise.

embarking in a task too enormous.

to become the victor?

this is no longer a game,

the odds are too great;

this time it's too large.

this game is much more dangerous,

more overbearing.



i am the helpless prey of a monster

that may soon devour me.

no light can enter this room.

it is closed forever.