mental health · Poetry


the sadness creeped up on me

like a vine

twisting around me

taking hold

and once it had my arms

I was trapped

No amount of struggle would free me

But then came the people

Those who cared

And cut back the vines

One by one

Until I could move my arms once more

And begin to free myself

Eventually I could climb out

and look at what had a hold of me

and those vines which seemed inescapable

were now in pieces

now I am free I can cut down the vines of others

although many are freed from the vines

sometimes they are too strong

too viscious

too fast

and they cannot escape

for as fast as we cut back the vines

they continue to be tied up

sometimes those people free their minds from the vines

their bodies forever engulfed

but their spirits free, no longer struggling


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