It closes
The surrounding darkness is somehow contracting
Though it was always equally lacking in light, the walls approach on the edges of your vision.
The jagged edges that hold a promise of riches never yielded their prize.
They fall and crush, snapping your vertebrae without thought.
Pinned to the damp floor, your skeletal remains give up their fight.
It has won.
Not daggers, no, far less civilised, far more brutal shards pierce roughly through your chest.
The sound of your screams is replaced with silence
The battle is over.
Yet still the blows crash against your skull, the pounding on the inside of your head starts to break out.
Perspectives reverse
Not dark, sunrise, not rocks, a quilt, not screams, but beeps.
A day begins
It
Was
All
In
Your
Head
Does that make it alright?
Do you feel better for that truth?
Your mind tricked you, is that what you want?
Which restricts more, a prison of rock or thoughts?