Of Paper Dolls and Seamstress’s

With this gentle downpour

She’s sitting down at her sewing machine

Ready to fashion the everlasting motion

Which will define the most important of eras

Tiny, single stitch is all it takes.

--

Colours so far from desolation,

Atmospheric drum beat purging,

Divinity could never create something so lulling.

She’s still sitting at her assembly line table

Her needle and thread fabricating this blueprint

With grinding patience.

--

So here they are

Paper dolls that only have crayon coloured feelings

And a seemingly indomitable essence.

She just smiles, while she designs

The textile journey that they are voyaging on.

--

Deity on high shreds His murky bliss

And she watches the seams weld together

Sustained by an invisible thread called Time.

--

(With this gentle downpour

With this fierce drizzle

Can’t you hear the paper thin prayers?

Rip me, remake me, tear me apart.)

--

Rubber screams on material roads

She grins as His majesty

Forms something new, out of manmade metal.

Paper doll lives become soggy in the sewer water,

Pulpy disaster that Her and her heavenly father

Will never re-create.

-

-

-

And sometimes we wish we knew how,

To hang ourselves dry.

A/N: And again I don't like it, and yet I do...I just hope my mind will stop thinking of storylike poems, that I have to write. Thank you to those who have reviewed and will review.