Wrapped Too Tight

This crown of thorns became a cap, which grew
as burdens do, into a hooded cape;
I watch my lifeblood pour from each sinew
that this infernal shroud has rent agape.
I cower in the cowl I cannot shed,
infused with dread, I hum a frantic hymn;
but still the anguish puddles deep and red
foreshadowing a future more than grim,
where everyday is just another scrape
without escape, enveloped in this shell;
a wretched raiment that shall ever drape
around one unrelenting private hell.

Within the folds I struggle to remain
as shadows help alleviate my pain.