Poison Ivy

Life keeps going, and though it may sound cliché, You can’t wait for the time when your pain’s washed away. You started off strong – as we’re all meant to be, And were given this life to set yourself free. You don’t have a body; you just have a soul, Something that’s you – it will never get old. You can’t just sit down at the bust-stop of life, Waiting for the day when everything’s right. You started off great – the world was so new, With corners of secrets only for you. Then came the worry, the doubt and the fears, And with that the pain and the lies and the tears. It felt as though life was constricted in you, As though numbness was only what was felt to be true. It felt like the ivy was tying you down, Making you a prisoner of the cold, solid ground. It climbed up and flourished on your body – its shelf, While you were trapped beneath poison itself. You could no longer move, you were so deeply in, That you thought no one would notice to help or begin. So you stood there alone as life carried along, And you watched all the buses from the place where you hung. You tried to reach out, but your hands had no grasp, And you feared that the ivy would worsen its clasp. But one thought was preserved, although buried quite deep, A thought that would keep you from going to sleep. The poison could never enter your soul, Because that’s who you were, or so you’d been told. It could seep through your body and try to ignite, A spark that would threaten to dim your own light. But now in the repose of the strengthening thought, The shackles of ivy began to fall off. The world had awakened once more from its sleep, And you were no longer wading so deep. The poison decreased and you heard on the bend, A bus just for you to resume journeying again.