Beginning Middle End

 the hour was soft. melting slowly as we sipped. the page was torn. turning cautiously as we absorbed the text. 

the echoes linger too long in tunnels that go this deep. our words shout back at us long after we've moved on. 

the crack in the ceiling is our marker. as we knock down these walls. the doors were never locked. we just hadn't tried to leave. 

we lay in our graves waiting for the coffin to close. we peel away the skin. only to be repulsed by the meat that's been exposed. 

there are no villains in this story. 

only the multitude of  mistakes that our protagonists have made.