The Strands

The strands are
Unstringing and how
Do I plait them back into
One whole framed outfit
That makes sense and
Pleases the eye? I am
Mortified by eyes by the
Peering in of windows and
Secret sighs. My back
Hurts from so many knives
And I will take a 
New carrying into this
New century - one of
Colour and light, one of
Truth and right that
I have not lost despite
All their trying.
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