the drawing room

the room is full of numbers
people waiting people breathing
and the air keeps getting thicker
as i search for some way out
there's madness in the method
letting fate dictate your steps
but risking all to strike out new
there, there my neighbour hushed
such comfort in the apathy
of never asking why
such dull complacent luxury
of having second best
this rat race we're all running
hoping someone else is next
and i'm tired of the turmoil
this room is not for me
i can sense they all are staring
from their half-demented eyes
as though difficult i rise
for i must find the door
although no one else is moving
a hundred hands seem grasping me
i struggle with each step a little less
until i near the wall
the new number has been called
but i am almost free
before me is the unmarked door
i pass through wonderingly
as it glides slowly shut
a head turns