Bind me to this weathered wood,
With your words of honeyed spite.
Your wrath is kindled stack up high,
Beneath my begging knees.
With your mouth you sew resentment,
Guised in support and love quite feigned.
A knife in the dark glistens near,
Waiting for my mind to rise.
You are an expansive spider,
With beaded webs strung wide.
And you now fear this struggling fly,
Who has become a glowing brand burning your manipulations away.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.