Stitch
(n. a single complete movement of a threaded needle in sewing)

I spin round
and
round; static
whizbangflying! but no one
notices. I want to scream –
my brothers, why do they let go of me?

I’m pushed into this
little
hole, I’m looped and pulled
and it hurts. The wind claims me as its
playtoy, it makes me
giddy.

Plunge headfirst
down
into this though thick. Friction,
it hurts me; my skin burns as I
rub shoulders with this newfound obstacle.

Like a rollercoaster ride, it’s back
up!
for me & then suddenly I’m in the
black again. Stop it! I want to shout,
it burns, it burns.

Everything comes to a
halting
stop; and there’s no one
pushing, pulling, paining.
I’m happy, I’m
alive!.

It wasn’t long then I was
s t r e t c h e d,
s t r e s s e d.
I cry, my fibres they
p u l l a p a r t one by one;
it hurts, it hurts.

Sharp, painful snapripwhoosh –
I’m bro ken; I’m t or n.
Flop,
flop. Do threads go to
heaven?

A/N: Very strange poem about a piece of thread being pulled from the bobbin, threaded into a needle, stitched into a fabric and then broken apart. Not my best, but it’s unique, at least.