Written by: adam hollingsworth

Iris’s that clash like a storm,
An empty room that has closed doors.
Freedom that lacks windows
Nowhere out and nowhere to go.
Silent words formed like a chore,
Day-in, day-out… what a bore.

With the whistle of a pen;
A change with no win. 
Accomplishing something,
Yet nothing is done. 
Change but no change,
Only time continues on. 

We speak of evolution,
But lack will and constitution;
Round and round we go,
Changeless sounds swim forever more. 
Wake up to the same old sh*t,
Then pass go only to come round to…
                                                       The same old sh*t.
Unchanging patterns build; 
                                                 They go hit 
                                            For hit.  
Nothing more than the same old sh*t. 

Same yet, sameless…
Something’s strange with this limerick. 
Offbeat and off pace…
Only a thoughtless face can take rhyme with this. 
Patterns build and patterns change,
Only now I can feel the rain.