Sewing is one of those things I can’t do
because putting the needle in my hand would make
I jab the needle into my palm
and wiggle it around to make sure it’s still there.
I would ask myself
why I would do
and for what effect than to ask
(out-out) God didn’t stop me.
Better my hand
transferring my blood to someone
who won’t need it.
I love my brothers too much;
I used a Butterfly needle so it wouldn’t hurt.
He’s smiling (in) on me. He sure is (out).