Do you want to talk about bloody nails;
Fingerprints scraped off by friction?
There are roots growing
Where the mud is caked on.
I can’t stop digging,
To the left,
To the right,
Trying to get higher.
I look up and see the stars above me,
So far away
And blurred by the sweat in my eyes.
I can smell yesterday’s work
Lingering on my lips,
Like a taunting kiss.
Who is this monster compelling me
To dig?
What is their name?
If I screamed it at the top of my lungs
Would they even care?
All I want to do is escape.
All I want to do is run again.
To feel the embrace of another human being
Or just hear my name.
All I want to do is escape,
But how can I…
When I’m the one who started digging?
Moonlit Poetry 