Carefully intertwined,

the threads of my mind.

Been weaving since I first

heard the words of your verse.

 

Sometimes these strings get

tangled and form a threat.

They flow right out my mouth 

with no stumble, pause, or doubt.

 

It’s only when my cords hit you

that you seem to understand.

The needles you pinned to my brain,

where my cloth wove and wove again,

were your pride and pain.