Poetry

imaginary vines

where were you when
i pleaded for sanity?
the witching hour, took
a heavy toll on me. lost
in a tunnel, with no hope
of seeing, clearly, i sank
back, and became aligned
once again with the roots
of the trees. majesty, lover,
an omnipotent being standing
before me-jailer, ridicule and
dismay, tangled in imaginary
vines…✨

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