Next

World spins, whirling off-kilter

Dizzying axis-bent twirl

Tumbles her, head hitting, feet

From one twisted surreality

Unceremoniously into the next

Thrust aghast

Into nightmare’s new screening

Playing on and on and on

Dropped disoriented amongst

Cadre of rough-edges men

Stepping-stone, supposed

To freedom,

A positive move

Deposits her in waters

More foreign than those

She already in terror traversed

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