A basic poem for a complex situation

[105tinlife]

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.