Twisted Tree.
I can feel the tree branches wrapping up my body, to the point they reach my throat until I can’t breathe.
They are keeping me restrained, no matter what sweet words I whisper to them to set me free, it’s useless.
All I say or do appears to be evil as if I were this demon that it’s plotting against them.
When all I try to do is to be as sweet as vanilla can be, but apparently, I’m nothing but poison.
I can see the tree branches through my window and in every step, I take inside the house.
I can almost picture their judgmental eyes, waiting for me to make a mistake.
They seem to feed on my failures or my naughty behavior, they feel satisfied.
Satisfaction when they acknowledge I have failed, that I’m not as perfect as expected.
I fantasize about cutting the tree so I can be free, but their roots are deeper than I thought.
I don’t have any tool to slay it, it’s has been here for generations, this twisted tree.
Their wicked branches, that every day are taking control over until I feel like an intruder.
For this tree, I’m a vicious visitor, full of flaws and sinful intentions, when all I do is hide.
I carefully strive to not make a sound, to keep my privacy and secrets,
to be invisible.
But I will always feel the branches coming after me, even when I’m falling asleep. I’m scared.
