This room keeps on rolling.
The furniture breaks as it hits each wall.
Papers fly everywhere.
Metal flies into the wall sockets,
And causes blue sparks.
This is the tumbler.
The stones inside become smooth
And get a subtle shine.
Nothing can get in or out,
But we know what's happening inside.
You can stop the tumbler,
But you won't.
People can only stare
At things in motion.
To interject would be asking too much.
The room keeps on rolling,
But nobody wants to step outside.
They don't know what's happening there.
The world may be spinning around them,
And nobody wants to make that adjustment.
This is quite good, both in poetic execution and, especially, your clever metaphor.
Its an interesting concept, I don't know what to think of it, yet I cannot stop thinking about it.
Interesting, complex but controlled. What inspired this?