Tugging

I’m so tired of tugging uncomfortably at my skin,

like an itchy wool sweater, it has never felt right.

I tug at the seams, hoping to bring some change.

Hoping that the threads will sew themselves into

something more beautiful than the shape they take now,

but they never do.

Instead the threads unravel

they spill around me in a pile of discarded self loathing.

 

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