Pulled taut as a hairband ready to split.
The ability to shake this clutter of thoughts
has vanished with the broken promise to keep shut up.
Shut up were these wishes, in a cupboard where the door's now ajar.
Shut up I have been a time too often here
Within these four walls, where the mould and cold creeps in
not another winter, will I put myself through this.
A coiled spring, rusty with grief
pulled taut now
awaiting relief.
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