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The ball of yarn
that I've kept for many years,
has officially unravelled,
presenting all my greatest fears.
For years I had them bundled,
neatly in a ball,
and it wasn't until recently,
I couldn't continue to stall.
This wasn't caused my me,
as why would I begin,
to unravel a flawless system,
in that I see no win.
But it was the cat who caused the chaos.
The cat of death and sorrow,
bringing endless pain and hurt,
until I could no longer see a tomorrow.
He pulled my life all out of wack,
taking a once single untangled string,
and creating a mess of loose ends,
which he then began to fling.
Out with routine,
out with content,
innocence is destroyed,
and here is a perfectionist's descent.
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Did ..you get raped?
ReplyPurfectionism can be purgatory but also a safety buckle. I hope you’re okay. The reflection of this poem hurts my eyes.
ReplyI know I'm not supposed to say all will be okay, but hoping you will be. This cat that gives you chaos can be locked up in a cage, where it can never hurt someone else. Be strong, your stronger than what your mind thinks.
Reply