I am cracking at the seams.
Some poor soul with crooked eyesight
Stitched me up so long ago.
But it is of no use,
They changed the stitch size.
Knocking little holes into me
Then threading through their own objectives.
I unpick stitches silently
And prick my fingers
So I am stained with my own blood
And the seam is coming loose again.
I tell them,
One step forward two steps back
I yearn to relive those tender memories
It is inefficient , painful and almost unappealing
But I know,
It is the only way to secure me.