My tapestry

Reality is my fantasy,
My distant type of Dream,
Fate likes to outrun me,
I'm tattered at the seams.

My embroidery is broken,
Covered by a fading bloody stain,
Haunting memories of the heartbreak,
Only my shattered soul remains.

Sometimes a kind being,
Will sit and sew my life,
But the thread gets all knotted
So I have to cut it with my knife.

And people tend to judge me,
Because I'm not as neat as them;
And although my thread is new,
It looks rotten, dirty, dead.

My pretty blue is grey now,
And my gold has turned to black ,
My cotton heart is ripped and frayed
Free will is what I lack.

I'm controlled by that needle,
That evil metal rod,
Stabbing, pricking, bleeding,
And I look up to my God...

Why do you do this?
I'm a tapestry that's ugly;
He answers me kindly,
As in horrible, or lovely?

You see beauty is not everything,
You are pretty too,
Everyone has snags and frays,
And some greys turn back to blue,

You shouldn't feel different,
The needle is you're friend,
It guides you through your life
And when it stabs it mends.