Untamed, tunnel spinning.
The fairgrounds
of grief.
Dark
And lonely.
The murmurs
coming from
The end,
calling us
To the opening
Across the way.
The path unkind,
So close.
Arms stretched out
Never quite there.
Finger tips scratching
The surface,
Always present
Slipping and clawing
for traction.
Shouting out silently
For everyone to hear.
The roar of laughter,
Too much.
They say,
We are all alone
In this tunnel,
Spinning
Our way
Back home.
DoRee MelNic 
Your words convey the feelings of grief that in some instances go on and on and on. The spinning tunnel is a good metaphor for this phenomena.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reading, and that is exactly how I feel…
LikeLiked by 1 person