Her heart is permanently pinned to her sleeve,
Her lungs lack the strength to breathe.
Patterns and repeats don’t go unnoticed
Yet she goes on, lets the next be the closest–
To set her free
And bandage her knee
And stitch that tattered sleeve–
That tattered sleeve!
With the worn out heart–
The one–that used to be whole at the start.
–London, UK, 27 October 2017