cracking knuckles and
the seams are ripping
on your wretched sweatshirt sleeves
and there was a moment
where
i didn't mind
but now i have began to feel it as the delicate thread
is pulled and teared

listen to my voice
this sweatshirt will soon be demolished
nothing but
a ball of thread and scraps of black fabric
stained and tattered
and i don't have a needle