Unraveled

I was nothing, but the dying flame of a candle, burning out,

You were forgotten, by the seaside, being tossed, turning about,

Spun-wool-threads were soon unraveling, quick...

A lonely woman uncertain, if living's a solid brick...

In a court, in a cage, four walls, makes me sick...

No windows, no justice, only lies, and dirty tricks...

But behind those blurred eyes, and below this fragile mind,

There is a hole within my pocket, and quicksand in the grind.