Fabricated

At night I toss and turn in my bed of needles,
questioning the scrap fabric memories of my past,
mixed up like a patchwork quilt.

You tell your flowing lies of silk,
as vivid as velvet and thickly detailed like corduroy.

I am your fabricated child,
from the twisted sewing machine of your deranged and cruel mind.

I was once as enchanting as satin,
decorated with tears and holes,
now tragically in tatters.

In the end, I am too torn to be mended,
I cannot be stitched back together again.

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.1 Australia License.

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    • Silver Wind
    • December 31st, 2005

    I love this, very vivid and powerful imagery. It is a very emptional poem.

  1. I got some of the inspiration from the most unlikely of sources for this piece; a mini-bust of Pinhead from Hellraiser 😉 The original that I worked around for this piece was also intended originally for something else.

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