Stitching seams
bound by my own hands
white knuckle grip weakening with time

Finally laced
everything where it should be
life comes unraveling all of my labor

Uphill battle
workload never ending
pretend I’m not tired with a forced smile

Covering holes
frantically patching
apologizing for the faults that are seen

Aching for the day I’ll have it together


Stitching seams
bound by our own hands
grasping for things not created to hold

Seemingly laced
compared to my standards
but not for too long

Comparing my insides
to external things
observing others through rose colored glasses

I’m my own worst critic

All found with loose threads, weakened fabric, covered holes
life is unraveling all of our labor