On the theatre, I saw two big signs
One said Entrance, one Brexit did show.
Can we never leave if we go in?
We have chosen, what we cannot know
Is it a bleak satire or device
To gain attention from the passersby?
Brexit is no Play, in law it’s real
.Am I now a foreigner or a spy?
The biscuit box said Torture Freedom From
Do Peek Frean want to saintliness aspire?
It was my inner mind that made ” Torture”
Whether waterboarding or pure fire
Etched into my mind the shock, the lies
People locked up, chained, inhuman crimes.
How my heart sings 
Hello Katherine. You make me open the door and reflect on the million lies I tell myself–to please myself, punish myself, exhalt myself. It is not a happy experience any more than your poem’s experience, but it’s a fine poem. Thank you. I hope you are well today. Best wishes.
Thank you so much,David