My mind felt the presence of death
No new mornings to come and go
An old needle threading - threading- a new seam
Since it was always broken through

And then I sat
The seam never closing
Prick-prick-prick the needle went
Then numbness of my mind spreading to my fingers

The needle moved like a herd, frantic and swiftly
Followed by a repetitive shoo shoo
Passing through a tear that could never be mended
And she wondered why the seam never closed

The thread was a belle, beautiful and worth the pain
With life wrapping it’s hands around my throat
Tightening the stitch of time around my soul
As failure wracked through me

Standing on the prick of doubt
Spreading more and more
Ripping, shredding and tearing
And then my sewing was finished