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A Hole
As I stroll
the streets
of New York
In a cashmere sweater and
straight leg jeans,
I notice something.
Playing with my cats
in the morning.
A loose string tugged
out of my sweater.
I Didn't Think Much About It.
What's a little crack in a vase?
A scab on a knee?
A hole in a sweater?
Turns out maybe
I should have paid attention.
fixed it
Before the crack grew
Before the scab reopened
Before the hole unwound
Unwound
Unwound
I covered the
hole
with the
strap
of my bag
But just because they
Can't see it
Doesn't mean it isn't there.
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Hi, I'm Lisa! Honestly, I was inspired to write this because I was in New York and my sweater ripped, but as I wrote it I realized how much it could represent as well. I hope you liked my poem, and thank you so much for reading it! :)