Round And Round Poem by Adam Hollingsworth

It’s as black as a dull sound
Round and round, it all comes down
So filled in smoke, I think I’ll drown
Down and down, the drilling wind inside the sound

The fabric’s wear thin,
Torn in the darkest night,
A dimension that bends,
Lost to a smothering sight,
Colors have lost their blends,
Ignorant to what’s wrong or right,
Playful to trends,
In the twilight of night.

The rip in the fabric has torn the sounds
Round and round, and lost to found
He hears, but does not see what’s bound
Down and down, the drilling wind inside the sound.