Ball of String

I am a ball of string.

Unraveling, unraveling

Each bit of string

Tied to the one before

Wound over the others

Crossed and crisscrossed

Building bigger and bigger

Until I can’t see what’s underneath.

So I unravel and unravel

Examining each inch as it slips

Through unfeeling fingers

Looking at color, strength

Little knots and frayed spots

Is this me? Is that me?

Where did it start, this string?

Searching for the center.

There is no center

And all that is left

Is a mess on the floor

That is no longer a ball

Of string or anything

Is that mess still me?

Or was I the ball?

Nope, neither, and nothing