Stronghold of Myself

Each breath brings about

A life enslaved in shadows

Long days of one

And time in scattered pieces

 

Afternoons hunched over

Depressive secrets shut me in

Eyes open wide,

But always closed shut

 

My roots are entangled

In the blurriness of the past

Dark and dense

With all my thoughts

 

But roots only bring life

They raise up a giant oak,

Full of life and stability and clarity

The stronghold of myself

 

Its branches twist into oblivion,

Whimsical innovations invite me

To a revival of myself,

Of new chances and experiences

 

The trunk nurtures my growth

For without the crown of thorns,

It is just a sapling,

And it could not hold me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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