If I could unravel the knots that bind these bones, my fingers would grow numb.
My wrists would crack.
My flesh would age.
& strand by strand I'm tied to be undone.

All in hopes the roots that thrived would begin to thirst again.
Gripped around each twig of mine, I race against constriction.
Pulling every which way.
Stalking every traveled end.
Unbinding every corner of this mindless, commanding restriction.