Torn

The fibres of my soul are slowly untwining
I can see myself
I'm a  sheet of paper being slowly pulled in too many directions
and where I am weakest
the crack forms

At first it seemed to bulge,
my resolve looked strengthened and I was
naive
now the strain shows

Multiple threads which have been clinging together
with forlorn optimism
suddenly
have lost their grip

And now I watch
as I slowly unravel
each thread ultimately succumbing
to the pressure,
to the promise
the allure.

I am torn