Mood:  a-ok

The fibers of the soul can be

A red fruit on an apple tree

(That'll never be eaten).

Peeling away.

Each layer much more insecure than the one before.

Peeling away.

And as I lie on down to bed,

I use (to think, of course) my head.

"Why can people see my insides very clearly once they've gotten through the outsides?"

I think.

Wait - is it possible for one to shrink

So quickly and see the frightening brink

Of one's mental exctintion?

Can I lose my sanity

After people have found my insides?!

How this can be?

My fibers (like an apple tree)

Are just as delicate as thee.

Or me,

Or he,

Or she!

The fibers of a soul are alone -

But they're not yearning for a mate.

Instead, they count on you

To make a crate

To hold them inside

Of yourself.

The fibers of a soul can be like that.

No need for a pat

On the backside,

But don't blame anybody, either.