I am broken,
as broken as they come.
the needle,
it goes up and down
in and out of skin
it heals me
it stitches my heart closed
it keeps the blood
from pouring out.
Yet I still pout
knowing that the stitches break
and have to be repaired.
only despair
can fill my heart now
the stitches keep it together
they keep it beating
what if I run out of string?
what if the needle breaks?
My heart breaks
it opens
and I remember
of a time where I wasn't filled with despair.
A time when I had hopes and dreams.
A time where I didn't need the stitches
A time where I stitched others up.
But I was left alone
and hurt
gashes to the bone.
loop by loop
stitch by stitch
I became me and soon
I could see
A place where
I could be me.
A place where I didn't need the stitches,
Where I wouldn't need the needle.
I was close
When I reached the door
My stitches broke
I was out of string
I was out of hope
the needle broke,
nothing could bring
me the happiness,
of finally going through that door
which led straight down to hell
where I could be with my family.
They forgave me,
for stitching them up
after cutting them open
down there my stitches would heal
and I wouldn't have to open up to remember
I would always remember
because I would see their cut up faces
and I would be able to stitch them up
and we would be a family again.
