A Thought

They scratch my nails against the polished surface, ragged breathing emphasizing each desperate clawing grasp. Blood pours out from broken tips and curdles from the acidity permeating the atmosphere.

Unable to turn around.

Pushed against this wall.

Why fight it? After all, without any other way out, being crushed to death doesn't seem so bad.

Just sink to your knees, absorb yourself in the velvet sand you would have tried to claw yourself out of and choke.