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Like grasping at water, I could not close
My fists tight enough amidst the onslaught
To compress a reflection. Here, I froze,
Trapped within the very confines I sought.

Every pinprick was a bell toll sounding
The minute come hour coming undone.
I crumpled, over nothing, surrounding
Myself with echoes of my frustration.

What is come undone resolves and unblurs
The carousel - each animal now free
To wander. But freedom can be a curse;
More walls cultivate the sanctuary.

Therein lies the calm, but too calms the lies.
Muffled by echoes, I’m deaf to my cries.

~Dorkopotamus (aka Katy)