The Voice

The iron door slams shut

a mechanical lock booms

Nothing can be seen

all that can be sensed

is stench and fumes

🌑

Feeling around in the dark

vainly searching for something

For all the sweat and exertion

the long awaited prize

a fist full of nothing

🌑

Why step in the room?

It was not a choice

Once again

we were encouraged

by the Voice

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