Labyrinth

Pressed against each cell wall, the sickening feeling of complacency overwhelms even the most mindless of nuclei. The flow seems controlled as if by some ultimate design that fell short of an ultimate purpose. Blueprints without words, a labyrinth is formed; but the problem with this labyrinth isn't getting lost. Each turn leads to an exit. There is always an end. Always the same end. Stark and unappealing, deceiving us into understanding.
A boy fights to enter the maze. He doesn't choose this fight characterized by the sudden surge of gas inflating the organs beneath his chest. Alive: He begins to sing as a crowd gathers but his tears mix with the atmosphere of his old world as it falls to the floor. It's stolen, but by who? He fought for this. This was His reward.

Years pass by beyond his perception. He masters speech, learns of fate, of choices and the effects of such mistakes. Each guides him further in. So many turns without meaningful direction until he finds himself staring blankly through a frost covered windshield. A realization surges past every membrane. A straight line. This facade he fought so hard for can end with a straight line. But as this thought festers in his gut, it struggles against a charge unseen before. Something within resists every connection between that thought's existence and the decision for action.
Six years the thought pushes from each corner of his meek form, silently prodding him closer and closer to the end, but still that resistance persists.