The Thread

Within reach, I grasped fast for the concept
Stepped back, gasped, and realized what God sent
The odd scent of a play so familiar.
New old stories of the same old filler
My own soul killer
Add insult to injuries, salt to my wounds
Mirages of death, skin cage of the womb
Rebirth my mind by the mother of heart
Is it really pain? Or is it art?
I'm not scared to die, scared to grow paler
The death of success? Or the success of failure?
The dress of a lost self that my own mind tailored
The time has come
put down the needle,
the scissors,
and the thread
Stop stitching dresses of messes that spill
out of my head
bare it all, my essence, my real self
claim my victories in life
off the back shelf
And know beyond knowing
that it's mine to keep
All it takes is just a little belief

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