Trapped

A motorway seems endless,

A constant mirage eternally running

In front of your eyes.  Endless streams

Of cars emitting fumes, obnoxious gases,

Circling, swirling, choking the life

Out of the air, out of the lungs.

Polluting, poisoning, endlessly

Mile by mile.

                        I look into my life

Ahead all I see is endless chains

Of days going on and on, no end in sight

Everything the same – Work to survive

To be able to eat and drink and play.

Work to kill every ounce of freedom

Left inside my body, the last vestiges of youth.

5^th November 1991, North Acton, London, England.

-Richard