Stitch Up Your Soul

You use blue thread to match the iris of your eyes
Sew as close to the edge to close up your lies
Hope no one notices you pulling at the string
Pull you under your throne, your reign as king
Where you wielded swords as powerful as a needle or pin
And hung your enemies with fibers woven too thin
You use black thread to fix a scar on your leg
Caused when villagers riot, rebel, and beg
Your mercy is as legendary as your craft with your hands
Falsely advertising yourself to far away lands
You hide your harm so they think you are strong
And they believe you, as they foolishly have for so long
You use red thread to match the blood in the veins
Those that have burst and opened like that of your reign
You bleed into a chalice and swear to God that it's wine
Your villagers drink it and swear to God you're divine
And you fool yourself into thinking that it all makes you whole
But trust me, there is no thread that can stitch up your soul