Fresh and cold,
Traces of others are left behind,
Warm from someone else’s body.
Bright green and pungent,
Rows and rows of structure.
Arms stretched out inviting you in,
Desks buckle you in for your journey,
Constrained in the sea of green,
One amongst a hundred.
Smells of sweet and pungent fill your nostrils,
Making you queasy,
Reminding you, you are not the first,
Nor the last.
All facing the same structure,
Illuminated by rows and rows of lights,
Empty wooden U- shaped chairs stare back,
Blank screens stare to the rows and rows of green.
A clock reminds you of life,
It slowly ticks
You wonder when this ticking will stop,
And you too will be just part of the structure.
Imagine this room flooded,
No with water,
Nor a basic organic matter,
But faces like daisies peeking up,
To try and get some of that light.
Complex and curious,
The green does not move,
But calls for the movement of others,
Pleading for you to get closer to the light,
To the blank,
That is center stage.
Trapped in green,
You cannot move,
Arms incase you,
Desks control you,
And this light,
It has captured you.