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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required When I was young, I took a tin can to the lip. Courtesy of my best friend. I ran away crying to my mother. (This was my first set of(flesh) stitches). My cat(blue) had a fetish for crapping in the bathtub. Dad got sick of the cat shenanigans. So, I never saw that color of that blue cat again. My second set was (broken spirit stitches). It was past bedtime I was busy finishing up a war. With a jar of plastic army men. Dad warned me a half dozen times to pack it in. He was blue-collar tired and took a heavy hand to my hide. His guilt was just as heavy (a set of forever stitches for him). One early morning I snuck out of our humble house. Made my way to the farmer's field and freed up all of his cows. As punishment, the farmer wrapped a corn snake around my neck. There were no stitches, but it put an end to my cow-rustling events. Brother and I once had an infamous butter war. Tossing and smearing it all over walls and kitchen floor. The fun and hijinks were well worth the licking. My third set of stitches were deep in the belly from laughing. Rachel was both babysitter and childhood phantom. Details are scumbled, mixed, and quite unclear. I think I acquired a few stitches made purely out of fear, One night, mother was screaming, blood smears on the sheets. Brother and a couple of crow men were present, I think. The crow men were doing unthinkable things. Then everything went completely blank, thankfully I never saw Mother's pretty face again. (My fourth set of stitches was of the mental type). Sitting deep in the black of the mind. The kind that stays with you for your entire life.
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