Patchwork

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Patchwork

My mind is made up of remnants.

Words that I’ve read, lines of poetry,

and so many things that have been said to me.

Some were uttered in love or friendship

but they have been so out-numbered by the hateful kind.

These are the things that stick and eat away;

like moths enclosed in a wardrobe space, hungry

and leaving behind a tatty patchwork.

Submitted: February 12, 2021

Poetry remnants patchwork

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A fine but sad poem, Hull

Fri, February 12th, 2021 7:25pm

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Thanks so much for reading, Mike. I really appreciate it.

Wed, February 17th, 2021 6:45am

Truth shared in many moments...well expressed hullabaloo22.

Fri, February 12th, 2021 10:33pm

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Thanks so much, LE.

Wed, February 17th, 2021 6:42am

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