Between you, me, and the wall, I don’t know what to do,
The only thing getting over this hedge is a black-billed cuckoo.
There’s a creeping feeling of impending doom,
I’ve gotta get out of this wretched place soon!
Something holds me back, almost like a chain,
Like vines from trees are coiling onto my veins.
This maze is alive and wants me to stay here,
The air is thickening as something draws near.
The birds have not returned in days,
These hedges have sent me into a craze.
My hands grasp at the branches of the hedge,
I am barely able to make it to the top edge.
As I get there, I finally feel the warmth of the sun,
I’ve completed what I’ve always wanted done.
But just as I start to climb my way out,
The leaves hiss, and out comes a desperate shout.
‘Stay,’ they whisper; branches curl around my limbs,
Thorns and sharp edges cut my hope that now dims.
The hedge drags me back down through its own leaves,
My fighting and struggling make me give out great heaves.
The vines and plants dig into my skin,
I understand why the maze acts how it’s been.
This hedge is not regular plants you come by,
But others who met the same demise as I.