Again, the scraps fall to the floor
floating gently from the fangs
of the newest fiend to rear its head.
Again, we allow this dance
of picking up the remainders
and trying to stitch them together.
What if the demon
tore itself out?
What if, this time, it leaves?
What if not every shred
needs to come home?
Sew yourself anew.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoésiePoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
