Too late
It's poison ivy, A parasite on my soul
And each time it is trod on,
The seed ploughs further down
So it can creep out again, bigger than before
And I hopelessly ask for help
But there are no answers to my calls
No farmers to sheave the leaves
No one to mend my walls.
So it keeps growing
Up up and in
Settle around my neck
Curling around my chin
I won't let it in
It's already there
It's in my veins, under skin
If only had I called earlier
The I turns in to We
And illness to wellness
But it felt like too soon
Now it's too late.