curlyj78
Harsh.
The spotlight shines,
unyielding.
Burning; I feel myself shriveling underneath its temerity.
Unrelenting.
I cannot move, I cannot see, I cannot speak.
I cannot escape.
I am forced;
I am stuck.
It was once there, but now is no longer.
It used to be well-respected, used, liked.
Necessary.
It is forgotten.
Unwanted, unused, thrown in the pile of junk.
A garage, too full to hold a car.
It won’t open, yet all that once was is pushing against it.
Bulging; the wood of the door is cracking.
Breaking with the pressure of all that we have thrown away,
all that we find useless.
Bursting at the seams to contain what we no longer find necessary for survival.
Did we ever even need any of this?