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claire-ellen-1Poems
The vines grow inside my body, up from the ground, into my thighs, down from the sky into my eyes. It overcomes into my mind warping and wraping until I find my heart turned violent inside of my chest. The only thing untouched in this mess. The vine it spreads it goes and it heads curving down going around, my lungs look like overgrown gates. Closed for the winder, and closed from hate. The vine it reaches, for my inmost being ceases the part of my know one cares the part of me I dare not share. Calm, Cool, Collected me. The people who watch they think i am a statue. Letting this vine, make crime, in my life. I guess they're right, I dont want to nor do I fight. The vine sprouts up from the ground, my warped mind, can't seem to decide, Does the vine belong? or should I bring it down.
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Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
The Prayer Room.
The vines grow inside my body, up from the ground, into my thighs, down from the sky into my eyes. It overcomes into my mind warping and wraping until I find my heart turned violent inside of my chest. The only thing untouched in this mess. The vine it spreads it goes and it heads curving down going around, my lungs look like overgrown gates. Closed for the winder, and closed from hate. The vine it reaches, for my inmost being ceases the part of my know one cares the part of me I dare not share. Calm, Cool, Collected me. The people who watch they think i am a statue. Letting this vine, make crime, in my life. I guess they're right, I dont want to nor do I fight. The vine sprouts up from the ground, my warped mind, can't seem to decide, Does the vine belong? or should I bring it down.
claire-ellen-1
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claire-ellen-1
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
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