LIGHTS IN THE ARENA

By Micah Lang

Melodious whispers penetrate my thoughts of confusion and fear.
As I walk on this beach, I feel them pass me, these ghosts of the seaside.
I feel alone, so alone as twilight breaches the horizon, but I know that they are near.
My mind races as the eeriness of the dim light fills my head with terror.
I race up the lonely, bare hill to the tall structure, this coliseum.
I enter the arena and the lights flood my sight even though they are dim.
They are others here in the dim light; horrific and gruesome imitations of past memories
Things representing parts of my past existence.
I can leave at any time, but I am drawn to the middle of the arena.
Eyes look out at me.
Eyes of a neon predator in the dim light.
A calm terror creeps on me, but I can not force myself to leave.
I must see more.
Illusions of a world not my own come before my vision.
The light is blinding even though it is so dim.
I can not take it.
I walk out and turn off the lights.
There is no double meaning
No symbolism.
I merely and literally turned off the lights
This was my first mistake
Because things come at you in the dark.