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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
