the click of the needle in the broken grove.
Deja-vu deja-vus again,
the searing prod of pain cuts deep once more,
reopening the scars of yester years,
tearing, ripping.
The years unkind amplifications of echoes past,
the memories mixed,
the roller coaster once more embarked, enforced.
The time of year, a passive assailant,
a stark unyielding reminder,
thrust coldly into the heart.
Feels precisely violated.
No reprieve.
Destiny of hope remains,
towards a change in future sojourns.
The flickering flame stays lit,
the focus,
amidst the storm time.
