I sit down in a chair one day

And peer into a box to see what's for play.

I pick up a needle and grin,

For what came into my mind

Is sending me into a spin.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I gently probe the skin on my arm,

Teasing and testing myself,

Making sure I'm not doing harm

'Til it's time to be transported to my own realm.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I take a giddy breath

All pain, fear and misery floating off from my chest,

Never once thinking this could lead to death,

After all, this is the only thing that brings me to rest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I gouge the needle into my flesh

And I let myself progress.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The thread zigzags across my body,

Through my arms, I look like a dolly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Once I've finished

I run my finger over the tight stitches

Marveling at the the masterpiece

Treading carefully on the fragile peace.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

For I know that very soon,

I will be sent to an asylum.

My mother says it'll be sometime in June

And I always reply 'will it be a while, Mum?'