by Jason Ausmus
Bound and struggling by strands of yarn,
Black and caustic around your wrists.
Not able to think, not able to play,
The mind wanders in slits.
Walking through swamps in tear soaked mud,
Serrated envy darkens the rain with decay.
Light flickers in through the fog,
Your eyes shrouded in grey.
A sound strikes, a figure dancing ahead;
An aura of light in the shadows fanned.
A glimmer of hope cradles your mind,
Illuminating the pestilent land.
The figure disappears behind an oak,
Its light like glimpses of a memory fading.
You reach the tree,
Only to see,
Darkness still and waiting.