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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Psychology · #1088862

A frayed life...

Frayed


I am frayed
like the edges
of an old worn rug.
I am worn thin
from many footfalls
taken upon me.
Though my fibers
try to remain strong,
my luster and beauty
have long faded.
Bright color and pattern,
shadow of memory,
stolen by repeat washings.
Roll me up, I am tired,
worn, thin and dull.
My usefulness long past.
© Copyright 2006 Nikola Dog Mama (nmarshall at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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