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Trapped
 
When you're old and slow
it's frightening
to be in a revolving door.
You imagine...
if you topple,
you'll end as jelly
spread on the floor.


It must be thus
for addicts,
trapped inside rotating walls,
round in perpetual circles,
confounded...
by highs and falls.


Escape
is rarely possible,
unless an attendant sees your plight,
takes control from the other side,
helps you...
to what's right.









By cherryk

© 2017 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - In a Revolving Door (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - In a Revolving Door (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - In a Revolving Door (challenge has been closed)


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