Some people say they are broken;But saying that would be a stretch.I am not even cracking;These are not even seamsThat tear open.I am just fraying.Scrapped on the surface,Getting old and used up,Rotting at a pace you notice nothing for the longest time.And then one day you feel languid,Gunge and ugly.Changes may not be as visible as wither or rot,But they aren’t quick either.The change is slow,It takes its time -Decaying and unraveling inchmeal.You’d say it is trivial and needs no fixing,Until it is already too late,And sorry won’t fix anything.