deepundergroundpoetry.com
![Image for the poem My Vines](/images/uploads/poemimages/521745.jpg?1725582548)
My Vines
There’s this gemstone i want,
perched right on a cliff.
No matter how many times
my hand stretches to grasp it,
i fail, merely tracing it with my fingertips.
I glance around,
catching sight of vines latching onto me.
My mind sends neural signals,
a command to escape,
but my body remains ensnared,
writhing and squeezed
into an embrace to the glade.
These stems grew from the dreadful
qualm buried deep in
the dustiest corners of cobwebs,
where my inner saboteur resides,
halting every attempt i make to move forward.
Leaving me stuck in a loop,
watching myself get pulled
into the abyss of inertia.
perched right on a cliff.
No matter how many times
my hand stretches to grasp it,
i fail, merely tracing it with my fingertips.
I glance around,
catching sight of vines latching onto me.
My mind sends neural signals,
a command to escape,
but my body remains ensnared,
writhing and squeezed
into an embrace to the glade.
These stems grew from the dreadful
qualm buried deep in
the dustiest corners of cobwebs,
where my inner saboteur resides,
halting every attempt i make to move forward.
Leaving me stuck in a loop,
watching myself get pulled
into the abyss of inertia.
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