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A Poem Called Ivy

She was like ivy attached to a giant tree

Submissive to the tree’s 

pernicious foundation

But ready to grow upward,

So she can see the sun

His green leaves

covering the brown

Demanding she tighten herself

Around him

Until she lost sight of her freedom

Growing more each day 

Just to survive 

Forced to be oblivious to what is behind

But open to 

What is coming

Quiet and anxious,


She had to sit by 

While the garden burned behind her

Ready to fight back.

Flowers are DYING

The giant tree in its wilting, 

mighty state

Saw the fire, 

burning on the horizon for months

Mind of the devil

Freak of nature

Masked by normalcy

Freedom washing away like 

chalk on a rainy day

Waiting to ignite a flame 

Onto the devil himself. 

She survives. 

Beauty of an Ivy, 

Mind of an arsonist. 



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