Hostage

Tyrant time had hands that
metamorphosed into wings.

Minutes migrated as my eyes
witnessed hours to days fly by.

Captive where the natives hate
everyone including themselves.

Capitulators in the North
Collaborators in the South.

Trapped by their antonyms
of humour and good fortune.

Free will pre destined me, now
I'm the victim of a misadventure.


Ps.

I can see why the refugees risk
the Channel in rubber dinghies.