.the Circle Of Discontent Poem by Not Long Left

Within the grasp of the four unremarkable
walls silence forced us to talk, torturing our
thoughts into revealing themselves.
The faintest if noise became a cannon boom
this hiss of the steam as it slipped through
the pipes, the thud of the clock as it ate
away at our time.
Blurry words on far off walls became essays
of interest anything to remove the mind from
the aching position it was in.
With controlled caution a voice from within
slowly opened the door, stepping outside
naked into the circle of emotional captivity.
Trembling from the fear of hearing ones own
voice sounding out their own despair.
Time to acknowledge our demons;
throw them into the circle-
exposing them in the hope to expell.
As the rest of the group began to rip the
bricks from their barriers I too began to
claw, and bash the bricks that had cemented
everything for too long.
The circle burst just as the clock put an
end to our revolt for another week.
It will continue to clock on, thud and boom
untill the silence of the cirlce is lifted once more.