Devil’s Seamstress

With fingers calloused and bloody

Persistent and breath held

She has ripped out the embroidery

Emblazoning her shame.

Balled up and discarded

Soiled shreds of thread

Designed to forever

Her outcast.

 

Wardrobe washed and mended

Donned in fledgling hope

She scans for telltale stitchery

Escaped from past’s expungement.

Step by quivering step

She dares to walk amongst

Those never soul-scarred

By hell’s needlework.

 

In moments and in days

Monogram’s proclamation

Echoes solely silent

Nightmare reverberations.

Hope’s tentative flapping wings

Crumple, stomped and heartbroken

At each revelation that invisible

Needlework once again scarlet flames.

 

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