I own a wool sweater.
I wear it everyday.
I’ve tried to remove it time and time again.
Yet, it stays.

I own a wool sweater.
It fits perfectly on me.
I suffocate and fall under it’s weight.
Chains bind the seams.

I own a wool sweater.
I knitted it myself.
The thread I chose is my hate, my jealousy,
And my lust for filth.

I own a wool sweater.
Unraveling at such slow pace.
Threads slowly fall to ground as I stretch
to touch that gift of grace.

I’m owned by a wool sweater.
That I knit and mend.
My sweater owns me.
I’ll wear it again and again.

I’m enslaved to my own creation;
though it slowly crushes my heart.
But, I’m comfortable in my cell, snuggled in;
Cozy in my art.

Save me from my sweater.
Save me from my sin.
Free me from this weight I wear,
and I’ll finally know heaven.

I long to rip it away.
I’d gladly shrug it off.
Save me, free me
from the weight of my self-inflicted cross.

His cross is the first hole.
His death is the first pull.
He rose and the sweater unravels for good.
My freedom now is full.

I owned a wool sweater.
He wore it just for me.
He bore the weight, my addiction.
And now I’m eternally free.

-cb