Green-glassed walls hold us in.
The ground rumbles and shakes.
The trees lift up their trunks,
Pulling their roots from the dirt.
They shuffle closer to us,
Bushes following in their wake.
A tall plant opens its jaws,
Sharp teeth protruding from its mouth.
Squeaking bats follow us out,
Flapping their wings at our heads.
We must escape this house.
This is not a game I care to play.
THE DEAD GAME