at times when I least
expect it, when I least
want to hear it, when I am least
able to deal with it.
It has a power far
beyond its value, rattling round
the inside of my head, bouncing
from ear to ear and back again
until I wish I could dash my brains
out on the walls of a padded cell,
the white cushions absorbing
the blood sprays of memories
Write a poem on this week’s theme.