The Tumultuous Crowd

The doors swing open
And a mob charges in;
They're done with waiting.
The ground's vibrating
With the ever-growing
Stampede. Then, glowing,
Wreathed by a spotlight,
Their target enters sight,
and to forstall the rampage,
the actors take the stage.

A/N: Not meant to be especially deep, just a random thought that was turned into poetry by a mind which should be locked up. Let me know what you think.