Tailoring Thoughts

Tangled between past and future
Thoughts thread outside the lines

Stuck on misplaced triggers
Torn by constant repetition
Tied to all my insecurities

These lines wrap around my limbs
My pen won’t move, the paper blank

I face the stitches, I find no meaning
One knot undone creates ten more
The needle inches closer to the edge,
Closer to its end.

I tied all my thoughts, I tore’em apart
I stock them, stuck and tangled.

Who is the part of me that keeps watching it happen?
How come I’m the tailor, spectator, needle and fabric?

For more Poetry & Art, check out my Instagram: @memento.mori.lab

©Mayra Gomes. All rights reserved.