Entangled

By the last micro thread of the spider’s web

Hanging

In a delicate balancing between desire to be free

From the casket of this cocoon

And to be safe from the fall to the ground

How came I upon this entanglement

But by little things, single threads of erroneous

Actions

Quiet discontentment resting feather-light

Clinging unassumingly to the sleeve of my façade

Until

Movement through my own self

Became hindered and slowly, progressed to

Halting proportions lost in one immobile

Case

Suspended by the last filament of my attachment

To you