Looking in the mirror,
I have become my favorite sweater.
Moth eaten and worn,
But the wool
Makes my skin feel new.
Somehow
I find my own fingers
Reaching for a loose thread
Tugging
Against my own will.
Unraveling,
Coming apart at each stitch.
Mangled yarn
Soon
Covers
My
Room.
Panic,
The next thing I see
In my reflection
I need a broom,
I need a loom,
I need,
I need,
I need…
Something
To pick up my frayed fibers
And knit me back together.
A needle and thread.
Thread of hope,
Thread of change.
Stitch by stitch,
Seam,
By sloppy seam.
Repair,
Recovery,
Rebirth.
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