Poem 9

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A locked room

Full of broken records with equally damaged players

The first one starts on a low volume

Not the worst thing in the world

You move on

The second one starts followed closely by the third 

It starts to get annoying so you attempt to block it out

Semi-successful

The rest start on their own

Each one slightly louder than the last

Eventually, it's a competition for your attention

Wincing, you place your hands over your ears

Realizing its failure you claw the wall

Looking for an exit

To escape

Rushing you bang on the door

Yelling

Kicking 

screaming

"LET ME OUT!!! PLEASE, LET ME OUT!!!"

Your cries are futile

Unheard

Sinking into the ground you get into the fetal position

Sobbing you try to drown out the noise

Right as you stop hearing something, the rest go to full volume

It dawns on you

You're trapped with no hopes of escaping

Your prison

Your tomb

You feel yourself becoming glass

Shattering as everything pierces you 

Trapped 

in your own mind

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