Cube

Twenty feet by twenty feet of welded, solid, six feet thick titanium with thousands of pin holes for air and flames coming from underneath. Inside there are boulders, some smooth but most of them sharp and  a few smaller ones as well.
    Within this cube I stand alone, mostly bruised and broken, but still surviving. The heat from below is so excruciating at times but nothing is as bad as when the cube is shaken. It causes the boulders and I to tumble violently and all I can do is brace myself for the worst of it. Once the shaking ends, I still find the strength to stand and continue to try to find my way out. Out of this box, out of this situation, out of my pain.
    At times I think I am happy and out of this prison I have put myself in. Sometimes  I press my face against the wall and look through a pin hole hoping to get at least a glimpse of light, happiness, something, anything besides these four gray walls. But then I get jerked back to my reality with another tumble of the cube and remember that I was just looking through another pin hole, unable to escape my fears.
    I just get back up, shake my head, assess my injuries and look for another way out. Another way besides these illusions of freedom.