Round and round the Circle Line
in endless pursuit of me and mine.
Familiar scenes go hurtling past,
each new vision much like the last;
grief and suffering, hate and pain
coming round again and again.

Where are the stops where the doors slide back
and offers a respite from the circular track?
Would I exit if I could?
Is there any choice but “should”?
When the stations slide into view,
is there a way out for me? And you?

The train slows down and signs appear,
once more decision time is near.

(Poem from WAVES)


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