The White Room

The White Room

The white room is calming,
even with the remains of my family strewn about.
They are dead, but I envy them.

Why am I still here?

The first time the ceiling opened I was terrified;
I hid in the corner—
any attempt to flee is futile.
Now, after so long, I want to be taken.
Just don’t leave me in this box.
I will face whatever terrors wait beyond these thin walls.

Will the box ever open again?

Just as I think the thought, it opens.
I see the face of the one who devoured my family.
There is no terror now.
I am not hiding in the corner.
I stare defiantly into the horrible fleshy face.
I dare her to take me.

Why is this taking so long?

Something is wrong.
I waver for a moment, feeling nauseous.
Then I am floating.
I feel her teeth rip into my side.
The pain is horrible but is quickly replaced by a rush of ecstasy.
This is why I was created.

I am donut.

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