August 18
Climbing, clawing my way out of a thorn bush…
scratches, bleeding – trying to escape.
The thorns engulf me, like a quicksand…
I can not breathe.
I can not escape.
the vines, like hands and arms… wrapping around me…
squeezing… tighter and tighter –
cutting off life….
cutting off the air that I need to be me.
Let me be…
Leave me alone.
Let me breathe…
can’t you see that I am scorned.
Will never be left alone in this life that has taken over -
taken on a life of its’ own.
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