Tattered Threads


Exploring this new role is

like trying to slip into

a stranger’s coat

that is ten times

too small

All I feel is

restricted and



Looking at

the tattered hem

and the label

that reads Enemy

I quickly shrug it off

It scratches my skin

in a weak attempt

to hold me hostage


Tossing it aside

like the proverbial towel

A weight is lifted

The coat belongs

to someone else

Sewn with threads

spun with enmity

and dropped stitches


Filled with warmth

as I step back

into familiar surroundings

Blessed with support

of those who don’t

paint with an angry brushes

or stab with

sharpened needles


Welcomed back

into a world

where soft breezes

gently caress

and the days

are sunny

The need for overcoats

is unnecessary


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