Silhouettes stand around.
My eyes look down.
I see nothing, but my feet feel the ground.
My ears are taken over
By a silent, eerie sound.
My head throbs
While my heart begins to pound.
I can see for an infinity.
All is the same.
Staring to hard would cause any man
To go insane.
My retinas burn.
My body convulses and I'll soon learn
What it means to 'meet my maker.'
I do believe I shall meet him soon.
Right here, in this white room.
Timothy Lee Hollandsworth Jr.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-this-white-room/
