10. Turning

My eyes are burning,

I’m learning, I’m yearning,

Springs are whirring, hands stirring

 

I spin in a circle, to find a way out,

But a blindfold of black is over my eyes;

The darkness spins with me,

And my last spark of hope splutters, dies

 

My gears are churning,

I’m turning, I’m turning

The End

75 comments about this poem Feed