Frayed and torn
Ripped and worn
Hanging by a thread
I should mend
but will pretend
things are fine instead
flayed and shattered
stripped and battered
begs that I attend
If I ignore
Days will implore
My soul I do Condemn.
Fits and curses
Wool that’s worsted
Wound up in a ball
My brows I knit
With angst I spit
As knots my work, confound.
Spun and tossed
Stitches crossed
Pins that do a prickin’
If there is fear
I persevere
‘Cause time it is a tickin’
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