Riddles's Journal

The fine tendrils taut, tearing at open wounds

Dangling, threads frayed and moods staid

The vines wind, like a python squashing the life,

The love and hope out of the moment

The network strands like crossed wires, over

And over again, forming a frame of miscommunication

Agony and despair, watch as new lines storm the body

Tearing at the lungs and the heart, taking the life

From what was left, a lump of dry earth, dead –

Dust, ashes to ashes, life to rust

Painfully stirring, tides tear the body as it tears

Itself, ebbing but not flowing, not forming and not

Free

Agony is all that is left in me, hidden emotion not spoken

Not seen and not known, pain in the mind

Stress tears the body, squashes, till no air remains

Choking, choking back tears, choking on the grains

The grains of life as they flow freely

Whilst time marches on.