She is patched together like a old quilt

worn and withered in time

Her stitching is made of life lessons and mistakes

accomplishments, failures and laughter.

Each square holds a piece of her life

Some are torn

others are patched

not a single one is perfect

To her it is not beautiful

but it does not matter

those stitches are the scars of life

a life she fought so hard to keep

It is vibrant, a collective work

stained in ink and blood

The quilt she wears is her skin

and she is blessed to have lived in it


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