In the morose foyer we wait

Corralled,

Our frames pushed together

Uncomfortable,

Like cattle in a desolate field

Silent,

Nothing to say so we observe

White,

It covers the walls, covers the floors

Black,

Bodies surrounding me

Vameless,

He summons us for the main event

Mysterious,

Our very own Charon leading us

Overwhelmed,

By the chamber's sensory overload

Flowers,

They're everywhere, taunting us with

their beauty

Bleeding,

An earthy, putrid aroma filling the

air

Sweet,

Still they cling to life, producing a

scent so unique

Suffocating,

Feeling trapped although so free

Deteriorating,

Their leaves curling up like the legs

of a wounded spider

Crushed,

At the slightest bit of pressure

placed on them they crumble

Draining,

Their already broken forms of the

vibrancy they once had

Suffering,

For they are watching their lives slip

away from them

Terrified

~Ellie Lambert, Senior