Sonething random this way comes

Fluffy clouds and moonlight walks. Peaceful streams where no-one talks. The quiet woodlands, singing songs. Relaxing hymns, for which I long. The darkness closes around my head. My heart beats fast, sensing dread. The noises off, disturb the peace. Artificial sounds that do not cease. And in there lies the distant dream. Always too far to jump across the stream. The distant dream, a memory kept. Never resolved as I slept.

A line should be straight. Point A to B - they said. Not this one. It twists and it turns, There seems no end To the suffering. A line should be clean. Easy to navigate. Not this one. The walls are high Brown and damp Dark and dim. A line should be safe. No danger to be seen. Not this one. Death hangs on every corner Rats scurry. Men scream. A line is a dream. A straight solution. Not this one. The gas flares burst The shells burst. The noise sings. A line is drawn. A boundary, a fence. Not this one. The call goes forth Over the top. And the line is gone.