Poem: Everywhere the Ropes


Everywhere, the Ropes

Everywhere, the ropes.
Holding me
Holding me

Rough, they cut into our skin.
cut into our souls,
hold us from the sky;
save us
from ourselves.

Some seen.
Too many invisible.
Too many a symbol of power,
created to control,
little lies
Too many created by ourselves,
little lies we tell ourselves,
the byproduct of thread after thread wound together,
each one fragile but together,
formidable, but
not quite unbreakable.

One by one each thread can be undone,
and live again free to rise
or fall
on your own.


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