Alone in a crowded room
sickly smell of sweet perfume
Looking to find a way out
doesn’t seem an obvious route.
The volume level is up to its max
I’m finding it impossible to relax.
Maybe if I lean against the wall
may notice when I fall.
The ceiling is now closing in
I might be sick in the bin.
My chest is tight and that
is making me think that this is hell.
My legs have gone, there is no stopping.
overcome with a sense of dropping.
When I awake what will I say
to try to
explain my embarrassing display.