Another non starter

The ends seem to always be corners,
Leading on to newer ways;
We all seem to call ourselves names,
Only to be lost in our own wile games;
We wish so many tragedies on many,
But none of the wishes ever come through;
I am caught between witches,
Asking for their pounds of flesh;
I can't decipher a road to escape
From the thousand little pathways;
I am shouting hoarse and sometimes crying loud,
Too far too long into the wall that separates me from faith.