The Finish

 

  At times I'm not sure if time could heal,

The tears in the fabric of which I can feel

Uncommonly aware of emotion and state,

Unwilling to utilize, to fulfill my fate,

For the threads did unravel, as I grew and tried,

To understand this weave, that mills inside,

Mistakes all too many for me to denounce,

Another tired victim, for whom to trounce,

To rise to the ledge from which I could fall,

Would mean that the view would change to a wall,

So try as I may to sew it all straight,

I'ts all very clear, too little, too late.

Cheftell Cheftell
41-45, M
Mar 9, 2010