the
world is crashing down
smothering
me in smoke
wrapping
me in the arms
of
something like death
but
worse
because
nothing ends
and nothing
new begins
it’s a
perpetual ratrace
in a
pointless rotating world
each
little gamepiece
playing
its part
without
thought
round
and round and round
a mantra
that means everything
and,
therefore, nothing
what was
to be expected
what was
being hoped
when I
believed I could stop the turning
did I
really think anything would change
I am
trapped
here, in
routine
aren’t
we all
perhaps
you call me paranoid
the
world tells you to
I would
not hold it against you
if you
call me crazy
and move
on
running
your mazes
finding
your cheese
and
expecting something will change
nothing
will
of
course it won’t
we are
all slaves to laws
aren’t
we
by Megan
by Megan
