This Place

In the sinewed branches
I am caught;
The dead mind of
My own thought.
Try to stretch my wings,
Thorns gauge out my eyes.
No idea what I'm doing,
but thoughts terrorize.
I wish these bony fingers
would loosen their grasp.
They take my breath away
And I'm fainting fast.
The clouds shatter.
Light shines through the cracks.
I've found in this place
Everything the latter lacks.