Thread of my mind

the thoughts run from my mind like a spool of thread dropping falling spilling out recklessly in my hand. I look down into my hand now full of memories mounded over like bakers bread, and think of all the time now running out of my fingers like sand. I think about the threat twisted unraveling freyed and now stained and now worn with time I reach for the floor to pick up my favorite pieces groveling begging pleading for my favorite pieces once mine Alternatively, this thread would have wove an elaborate tapestry of my life now useless a bad memory almost a stain on my record a time in my life that was filled with such anguish and strife a piece of my life I wish was ignored The same thread ment for a tapestry now is used as stitches to patch up the life that might have been spolled back up put back together with a purpose which is to make sure no thread gets so tangled again