Poem By Cerys Grant
On torture hell bent!
Your mind will not let you repent!
Your soul to the underworld has been sent!
There is a constant wrestling and writhing,
coherence is just barely surviving,
you are deep in chaos hiding,
and all the while inner turmoil is thriving.
Your purpose is completely senseless,
your constitution makes you defenceless,
you feel this iron tenseness,
which makes you utterly helpless.
When will this reign of terror end?
When will you learn to be your friend?
Strength is elastic, it will help you bend,
and enable you, for yourself to fend.
How does one learn to live in peace?
How does one force this fear to cease?
How does one survive a war?
When you have been cracked to your inner most core?