project 52 / week 40 / unspoken

I don’t know how I ended up here.
I don’t want to say always,
Because I’ve been trying to be an optimist.
But my pessimistic side has roots woven deep.

They shroud the door I need to get out.
I trip over the vines, stumble on the uneven ground.
It’s all overgrown,
Overstayed it’s welcome.
Impassable.
Grown so tall, I’m not sure how to cut it down.

I can’t figure it out,
How I end up here so often. 
This is the very spot,
Where not some 365 days ago,
Four quick steps saved me.
And I was sort of hoping to return,
And have another miracle. 

Because it’s hard to hold on, to all of this.
And I just want to set it down. It’s gotten so heavy.
The branches scratch and the grass tangles up my legs.
I just want to set it down and feel the weight disappear.
Just for awhile, just a reprieve.
A moment where,
The weight of the limbs, doesn’t feel so heavy. 

Those limbs, have fallen here,
Crashed under the strain of the wind.
And, metaphor or not...
It feels like the wind hasn’t blown this hard in a long time.
It rips the words from my throat,
So I whisper to stop the strain of tears,
That threaten with every second,
To spill over. Overgrown.

I don’t know which way to go.
Because the path out is overgrown.
I trip over the vines, stumble on the uneven ground.
It’s all overgrown,
Overstayed it’s welcome.
Impassable.
Grown so tall, I’m not sure how to cut it down.
I don’t know how I ended up here.