from carrying the
of your collected
Pain that you
gather as you fall down
in the door ways
of home after home.
with trinkets of
yours, for miles.
Sadness in every colour.
But I sew it all together,
instead, and remind you of the
order. Because lies need
to be remembered, and one day,
when I have woven your words into
all of the doorways, and all of the homes,
and all of the trinkets and all of the sorrows become
that even I
can no longer
I will walk away, and I will have
made sure that you are bound to it all,
and you will no longer be able freely follow me.
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