She could think about something else
a distraction from the pain
another new form of an old approach,
all temporary fixes,
that will return her to the same spot in the maze.
Unfortunately familiar torment.
Hands clenched to aching,
nails biting skin,
Her body’s defiance to the status quo.
Suffering unnoticed by a hurried world.
“Not this time.” She whispers. “This time
I will make my own exit.”
© Alicia Grimshaw 2016