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Hold Me Home
I’m captive within the ground.
Allowing me to move at will
bidding me no hope
but instead, a winning deal.
“I’ll hold you,
and you alone.
Catch yourself
and you’ll have a home”
The ground often begs,
and this ground simply pleads.
I fall for the ground
as if it were clean.
It cuddles my greed,
and grasps for my face.
The ground is at fault
for rigging my race.
I kick and I wince
in revolt of this quell.
Though I then comply.
The ground held me home,
but the ground is the reason I fell.

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