Through the looking glass

Inklings of the life that I will never share in flash by as my fingers swipe across the looking glass and the vespertine breeze rushes through the nothingness above my head. The long way ahead is fixed and daunting, winding and barred with many rows of concertina wires - circular coils of wires encircled with serrated blades. The past stands behind me with a firm grip upon my shoulders, it never stops haunting me. Who have I to hold once again? There was nothing before, what hope do I have that there will be any in the future?

I'm so tired now. Where are you God, my strength?