Aiesha Allison-Bramwell


Free me from this hell.

For try as I might or sometimes I might even just try,

I cannot escape the chains tying me to this carousel

It spins and spins,

Spins and spins,

Spins and spins.

My body is detached from my mind,

My mind is detached from this life.

Do you really care?


You claim to be the future creators;

The ones that evoke the flames of passion that should burn bright in the core of our being.

I don’t doubt that this is your mission

But you are not in control of your being

No one is

Apart from the ones that clamber up to the top of the pyramids.

My pharaohs, I hope your time was worth it

I hope your riches suffice

Will there be any left for us to indulge?

Doubt cripples my soul.


For when my fires burn, it is only then that I begin to rejoice

The storm stops

The oceans are calm.

Everywhere a turquoise blue,

As I float back to me.

Water should destroy fire

But don’t you see?

That cannot possibly define the galaxies inside one being.

Despite being trapped on this dark carousel

The fires within me begin to burn bright

I am the source of my own light.

But as I begin to grow and grow

You turn around.


Your face is indistinguishable,

I’d call you Hydra

And even Hercules went mad.

What is sanity when faced with a cold threat?

One that is never there

But is always looming over your shoulder

The rest of us are soldiers too,

But plain and boring.

Our life tales rarely historic

As we fight unknowingly,

In hopeless defence

Of an idealistic myth

Do not turn around.

Too late.

You stamp my fire to the ground.

Free me from this hell.



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