My father used to cry
His tears like knives that pelted my face
As if someone was putting heart and soul
Into stitch after tiny stitch into my skin
The emotion I feel is indescribable
As the needle flashed, the pulling of thread
Through muscle, bone
Its tip mysteriously blackened and stained
Blunted by human acid and tears
All I could do, when my father cried
Was sigh in contentment, sigh and sigh
Sigh, cry; cry, fly
Fly needle fly; bye bye, good bye
Anyone can fly as their fathers cry
Just close your eyes and let it whittle away
For nothing can compare, the stitching of skin
The needle that brings out, from within
Somewhere deep inside
Caged, flogged, shackled
The color of my tears
