Life as Thread and Tangle
Life as Thread and Tangle
By Drakovi Bloodrose
Spun silk, raw burlap — life, like a thread pulled,
sharp needle through cloth, no smooth hands at the helm.
It loops, knots, frays where the tug was too fierce,
mending itself with each jagged pierce.
Some days: stitch soft, feathers float gentle.
Others: thorns twist, pinning the seams.
Life’s a weave of the bright and the bruise,
light lingers, while shadows refuse.
Hope hangs like loose fringe, sometimes untrimmed,
wisps tugged by wind, raw edge and the neat,
a patchwork of moments not ironed to fit,
stitched wild with scars, yet held together in grit.
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