One Stitch At A Time

Insults kept flying,
A thousand tiny cuts —
They barely hurt.
I never even noticed them
Cracking my self-image,
Merely adapted to
The new patterns of my world,
And went on.
They tore at my seams
One stitch at a time,
Still, I kept tending
My barren dream.
Not until the last tear fell
When the well ran dry
And but blood remained
Did I fight —
And they bled.
Staining my soil,
Feeding my fields,
Painting my future

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