gasping for air as walls of people are closing in on me.
screaming for help as i make my way out.
but there is no way out.
they don't hear me so i scream louder.
hoping somebody, anybody, would hear my cries for help.
i close my eyes tight.
when i open them again the people have turned into my past.
the memories i've left behind are clutching my arms, neck, and legs, making me live in their vicinity once again.
i twist and turn and cry.
but there is no way out.

by Desiree Whitamore

Comments (1)

More prose. Hard to read when I'm looking for poetry. Or am I missing something?