What if it happens and there's no way out.
The not-knowing doesn't kill me.
It keeps me too alert to die.
Alone is where the walls learn your name.
They watch. They wait.
They know the game.
Then the chest tightens its gri
a fist closing around something it refuses to drop.
Hands shake like they're trying to leave without you.
Sweat with no heat.
Heart with no beat it can keep.
The body betrays before the mind can negotiate.
So you stop.
Not choice. Command.
The system pulls its own plug
and you don't understand.
Numb like television static.
Confused like waking in a room you don't remember entering.
The world goes soft. You go softer.
Wait inside yourself like a tenant who lost the key
wondering who you were and who you'll be.
Then thirty minutes later
you're back.
No wreckage. No proof.
Just the faint soreness of a war
fought under your own roof.
And tomorrow the unknown will sit patient again.
Not stranger.
Not friend.
Just waiting for the next begin.