tied up

i’m tied up,

my limbs and my tongue and my abdomen, twisted like a sad spiders web

i’m tied up,

from the inside out i’m weaved and stitched like a hand made gift and

i’ve seemed to have lost my starting point, where the needle first pulled through the fabric,

i’m tied up,

knots have been made where they weren’t supposed to be and

i’ve found myself once again, wandering.

searching for a place where everything is clean,

where purity overrides the tainted innocence of one’s life.

and i’ve said it once before, “look at all my clothes upon my bedroom floor!”

and it’s not the first time i’ve noted the mess in my mind,

but this time,

i’m tied up,

like a field of tall grass tangled around ankles and toes.

i’m like a tree trunk morphed from years of stories

untold, and here comes the exhaustion and it hurts,

the way i’m tied up and cannot break free from these

vines covered in thorns.

to discover where it first began would be a task I would never finish, not in the amount of years counted on one hand.

to reveal the moment where I could’ve stopped it all,

from creeping around me and tieing the bow,

would be like the mention of death in a hospital,

cold and frigid, wouldn’t help anything after all,

because i’m tied up in a place I hate to be,

but these ropes will have to lighten up, eventually.