Loose Threads

Hanna Rose

A string defied the proper stitch
And hangs where it can catch.
Each snag, it forms a nasty hitch
And fastens like a latch.
Too late to snip this fatal strand
And soon I’ll come to see,
That what was once a simple band
Is now a noose for me.

Remy Frey | Blackberry | Mixed Media

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