As I sit down in the dark corner I can feel the walls begin to slide,
I feel trapped, trapped here inside
As if this is my last goodbye.
The smell of expo markers being crushed by the walls,
Causes a sickening squelch within my stomach.
The numbers on the walls
Zooms past in a nervous patter
And I move to get out.
The gypsum walls feel as if they are moving close,
The Algebraic concepts they give seem to choke me.
I need to get out from here,
The overwhelming of math puts my thoughts on overdrive.
I need to get out of here.
A poster of complimentary angles catches my eye
“The bottom line is 180 degrees,”
The punchline to a long forgotten poster joke.
Are all words that spin around in my mind,
As I look around one more time.
The math concepts are now hidden from me as the lights flick off
And the heavy wooden door slams shut.