A/N: This one came up when I was finishing up my project (which brought this poem collection). You see, I threaded some ribbon through the pages, and through the agony on it, this one came up. So yes my "school" project is done, but fear not! I shall continue to work on my poems!
Timpcanpy: Yes it is Allen. And me and my friends are thinking about playing scrabble to come up with more ideas...
Lonely Kitty: Glad I can be so helpful! I loved you "laughter" "slaughter" reference. I'm never gonna for get how to speel slaughter now!
Thread of a Mad Man
Twisting colors.
Of soft smooth silk
So thin it can not be seen.
But makes up your cloak
All a different color,
None the same
Wound in tight circles.
That make up their fame
From red to blue.
And black to white
Pushing the colors through a needle.
That is small and thin
Grabbing the other end with my teeth,
You pull it through
I finish threading the needle.
Now the hard part begins
Taking the threaded needle,
That is full of color
I begin to sow.
Something that you do not know
The thread weaves with my fingers,
In and out of your cloth
As my skin begins to bleed.
Up and down the cloth
Bringing up some siccors,
That are sharp and dangerouse
I cut the thread.
That has completted its purpose
I stare at the cloth,
That is now complete
Staring at the seams.
That form from the thread
Tieing a knot,
And pulling it close
I look once more at the cloth.
Holding a rainbow of thread
Sliding my fingers under the trail,
That you just completed
Yanking my fingers up.
But you dislike it
Pulling the rainbow from the cloth.
Ripping it apart
Tossing the thread aside,
As if to discard the thing
I grab my needle and some more thread.
So that you can start all over again