Tuesday, June 18, 2013

An Ivy, Language.

Language is the ivy vine
I wrapped around my
ugly seeming walls
in my early days before

I knew my foundations
are like many sedimentary
and amalgamated large
and small, varying poracity

bound together from parts
that the soil would be in
a thousand years under
pressure and heat.

The tiny tendrils suck
to dig into me, and
I would not let my hands
brush away the tiny hurts

until they'd long since
laid the cracks that
would make it easier
to crumble my foundations.

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