Am I a human or am I something else?
A being made of cloth, sewn together with thread that was thought to be strong.
I can remember the piece of the needle that brought pieces of me together as well as the cut that ripped my seams apart years later.
I felt whats stuffed inside pour out as I lay there forgotten and unwanted, thrown upon the floor of an abandoned house.
Will I be here forever, begin to become moth eaten and decayed?
Destroyed fabric as time marches on
Weathered rusted needles in the tim Dusty thread on a high up shelf
and forgotten thimbles roll across the ground.