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Sewing Death

Your life is sewn together by the hands of Fate
When she finishes, that is your Death
She finishes each one with unique taste
Making a story with your last breath

Her sewing machine is old and dusty
It creaks every time the wheel turns
The needle is covered with centuries of rust
She has a crooked smile as your soul returns

She’s pleased by the pain she sews into you
She admires her work as she creates
Throwing away her work once she is through
Starting a new one with a blank slate.
PoisonApple
Written by PoisonApple
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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