How do things unravel?

What is the thorn that catches the dress,

at the edge of the thread that

holds the seam that’s

a tad too tight

from the tailors tug

on the faulty machine

from the bumpy ride

on the overused road

in an over-exacted society

running against all odds to make something

of their own? 


Who’s to say?


Instead we say,

“Don’t play by the bushes dear 

– you know that dress is new.” 

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