Binoculars and sutures

My heart was cracked

and you stitched it with vehemence

like an angry seamstress

you slaved over my gaping wounds

hands bloody and bound

in the end you took your pretty scissors

sharp with love and fear

and undid the sutures

leaving me to bleed out

all over my shiny cloak of hatred

dulling it with a rusty hue

I lye on my back

staring at a world ripe with uncertainty

nothing certain in this pit

not even a slit wrist

done right a thousand times

in the end I see the truth

barely disguised with rotted lace

life is a seam

a bitter wild ride

you better hold on for your dear death

because I am looking out from the inside

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