Black veins,
Bring the pain.
I'm tired of this feeling,
But I can't stop the bleeding.
I cannot free myself from these tangles.
For the harder I fight the tighter I'm strangled,
By these ropes that I've made myself.
They are hung from the highest shelf.
About the Creator
Alyssa Musso
A scientist by trade, but a creative at heart. One novel in progress with too many other ideas taking up space in my head. Some of those ideas end up here.
Instagram: @alyssa.n.mussowrites
My website! https://www.alyssamusso.com/
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Political Thirty-Three
Inevitable? A woman named Good is lost. Unforgivable. * Note: I don't think that I have to explain this one to anyone noting recent news, but I have included a video link below for future generations who can still feel empathy and compassion for someone who got caught up in history. And I was just too angry to say more with this piece.
By Kendall Defoe 6 days ago in Poets
Comments (3)
Love the rhyme in this and the escalating line lengths! And of course the imagery of tangled veins is very striking!
Yikes, very somber poem - self-made ropes hung high. Nice job.
But I can't stop the bleeding. I cannot free myself from these tangles. For the harder I fight the tighter I'm strangled, By these ropes that I've made myself. Beautiful poem, great work.