Bindweed

Weed grows where the weed sows

Nettle stings, to and fro

Ivy climbs, killing slow 

In strength it wraps and grows and grows

But the bindweed binds and won’t let go

Roses beautiful, it’s  colour crude

ants place insects upon them to farm food 

ant killer powder though it seems rude

roses are tough and strong as might

but bind weed tightens its grip so tight

It’s pop out of bed flower, seed so small

it clambers on yet not so tall

racking and wringing, a garden pest

a gentle weed, not to digress 

like a Hornet in a bees nest

bindweed clings to destroy the best. 

Lonely to the core

Spiraling to the very edge of extinction 

clambering up the bricks of a deep tower

trying to grasp at a chance of likely freedom

Yet there is none, escape is impossible 

with a small rush to the head of excitable prowess

only to find that freedom from impending doom 

is an impossibility for one such as him

rescinding into the darkened gloom once more

continuing to crawl along the hard cold floor

a useless boring man; lonely to the core