It was only small, at least to start. I planted the seed myself. Then the roots took hold, drawing sustenance from all around, feeding and feeding, getting stronger by the moment. It wasn’t long before it started to show and then, exposed, it grew larger and ever more out of my control. Now, it overshadows me. If I’m honest, saying I planted it is disingenuous, that implies intent. In reality, I cast it out casually, not caring what would happen, not thinking about what it might grow into. When I look at it now, I see all those who it has grown underneath, entangled and snagged in its thorns. They cannot escape any more than I can. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I was only thinking of me when I discarded that seed. When I said those words. When I told that lie.