Threads so thin,

Hold me to this skin.

Needles so deep,

Are all I have to keep.

These words are me,

For I am nothing.

A dust spec on a playing field,

And I am no player.

Hair atop cancerous skin,

A reminder of such hatred.

A smile centered at a dying face,

Useless, meaningless, unlasting.

Truly, I am nothing.

Nothing but a case of words,

Spilling out over pages, and pages.

Or pain, infinite and burning across time.

It's all I have to keep,

These needles so deep.

Holding me to my skin,

These threads so thin.