Bound Poem by S.W. Clark

Fate has tethered this soul property of mine,
links of fear and guilt make up its grasping line,
Clutching my bleeding spirit and tearing pieces of weakened flesh.
A leech of Life
mock of destiny
budding strife,
caught in your mesh,
kith and kin
to me are to lose again.
Find me, wind me, and I will play and sin.
You choose your lover but never over me you hover.
Bound to fate who hates me and mine,
looks good for you,
but not my good sign.