No time to think, no dream to clasp

As ‘round and ‘round the barriers swing,

Denying all the ‘norm’ might bring.

Objective thought or rational grasp,

All fail to thrive inside this ‘thing’.

‘Round and ‘round, there’s no relief,

Battered here from left to right,

Internal whirl a gruelling plight.

Trapped inside with pain and grief,

No form of sanity in sight.

Outside, there sneers a broken Past.

There’s no way forth and no way back.

There’s just ‘Old History’s’ harsh attack.

To cast myself adrift at last,

I seek a key …a tool …a hack.

Alongside Past, Aspiration crows

And cocks a bloodshot eye in jest,

It offers me ‘what comes’, at best.

How well, my weakened state, it knows,

It seems it brought another test.

And all the while, around again,

Whilst echoes tamp my mind’s finesse

And crush my inner lioness,

As duplicates of grief and pain

Descend as clouds ‘pon my duress.

Thus, I can barely catch a breath,  

So swiftly turns revolving door;

But somewhere, deep inside my core,

A tiny spark still smirks at death,

In hope it’ll be a flame once more.