Dark Turmoil

A darkened blackish vine

full of sharp thorns

tormenting my thoughts as it's

tight gripped vine constricts all movement

Aches of thorns pulsating,pounding

where my cuts lay deep

twisted thorns as death grows near

coldness of air rushes over me

weighed down with iron chains

This darkened blackish vine won't hear my plea

never letting me forget

what darkness can bring

it does not care and it only has one thing

reigns on my soul

unending rest