There’s tears in my fabric, It’s tugging and pulling.
As I look at it closely
and magnify it, to mend
I put ointment of honey, but too gooey it seems
I put fabric to hide it hoping it will blend, as it pulls away shredding and frailing instead
I put color to blend and laugh at it there, hoping it is not noticed, but it is still there
Sometimes this fabric unexpectedly tears.
At places, when I am not aware.
Its like a scar tissue remaining hidden inside,
until it quietly starts to reveal by pulling and tugging and tatters and shreds
it even splits at my ends.
This tear in my fabric will never disappear it chooses what happens when I am not even there.
So I choose to it’s freedom
No more it is hided or being repaired
I believe it and give it to recreate it instead.
