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.