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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

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a metaphor of fear

a spider of thoughts
is building her snare

can't leave
can't venture out
she's caught on the inside
its not anywhere

down the backdoor
there are no stairs
on the inside

one thought pushes
to the right
another thought
to the wrong

lost with no rope tied
to the barn in the blizzard
unable to see her hands
in front of her
her mind leads her nowhere

its fear ringing the
its fear
rapping at the door
its fear
pushing the blood faster
through her veins
its fear
that has focused her mind
on that spot in the
that shadow
on the floor

fear whistling like
whirlwinds whipping round
climbing the sun road
to the high mountain
to dangle from the precipice
by her thumbs

fear is
a sea of jaws that
gape below her,
all hungry
snapping more and more and more.

asks you to be quiet and listen

find a solution
turn the light on
false evidence is
gone now
you can


Originally Written on and Copyrighted December 19, 2006
from several rewrites...from a prompt at a facilitated writing group
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells/ Straight from her Tilt-a-World

All rants, poetry, prose, ideas are legal property of this author

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