nylon poem

[metaphorliteral]

It turns out that I am made of nylon.
I always thought I was made of tin.
I found out when your jagged words caught and snared on
when I thought they'd bounce off and I'd be safe in.
I guess it makes sense now that I think of it
though I'd much rather the reverse had been true:
it'd be nice for my words to make a direct hit
when I have sharp words to be said to you.
But nylon's so useful, in many things it thrives
like tights and rope and colorful kites
and seatbelts that act as savers of lives
and parachutes spiralling from incredible heights.
So maybe the fact that I'm not made of metal
shouldn't be cause for any alarm.
Metal, after all, rusts and gets brittle
but you can sew nylon up after it takes harm.
So what if now I've got runs up and down me
from all the cruel things you saw fit to say?
I've got needle and thread, and scars will look gutsy
and I'll live to save lives another day.