The Cursed Vine

The process.

A seed I was, a vine I grew,
A vine that met no light..
A vine whose limbs grew toward the moon,
And through the dark of night..
The mother vine who brought me here has brought with her a plague..
This plague, this tomb, this world of darkness,
Still its' meaning vague
I slither up the mother vine, naive of its' dark curse..
I've wrapped my limbs around a trap,
I journey to my hearse..
I take the course this vine has taken,
hoping to find light..
But all I see's the moon, the stars,
The darkness of the night..
As I grow, my limbs are pierced and cut by Curs-ed thorns..
Their blades stab deep, and stick inside,
And from them, evil pours..
And as the blades, still sticking in me,
push inside some more..
The evil liquid, black as oil,
seeps outside my sores..
This clever poison in my vains,
I'm unaware, I feel no pain..
What once had hurt, no longer sore..
And as it flows, I feel no more..


From my limbs, now pierced by thorns,
New limbs begin to grow..
All are dark, and all are evil,
They are all I've known..
Once again, my limbs get stuck,
Although around they wrap..
Around the vine, while squeezing thorns,
As though they felt no grasp..
As though they didn't know the thing that grasped them was of darkness..
As though they thought the mother vine protected like a harness..
The Curs-ed vine has given birth,
And gave its' curse to me..
The vines dark cycle soon complete,
A new one soon proceeds..


Now my limbs of spines and thorns are trapped behind a door..
The evil plagues my very sweat, and leaks out from my pores..
I'm disconnected from the world, I've lost my sense of sight..
But in the midst of all the evil,
Soon I see a light..
It speaks to me, his words are gentle,
"Tis' the way of peace.."
Truly, truly, yes I want it,
But I cannot reach..
Then I hear those daring words that shake my very core..
To grasp the light, let go of darkness, follow him no more.

Author's Note

Beauty or insanity?