qarrtsiluni

Entangled in the beaters it must be hard to recognize
The driver at the wheel of this combine.
Ego torn, hope beaten, pulled under by your fears
You search anxiously for some onlooker to do
What only you can do.

Years ago a child caught in the thrash of dysfunction
Not big enough to reach the off switch, waited for rescue until
Only blame survived.
Who else will hold them accountable?
A child clings tight to that wheel.

Tomorrow anger will again paralyze both the victim and the driver.
Gathering each straw, you let the grain slip away.
It is a choice to drive deeper into this harvest of despair –
Your crop to sow.
Turn off the machine, girl.

by susurradeluz of a line cast a hope followed