don't you have any wishes to make?
~~~
SO. someone brought up the idea of this one echo flower dialogue being from UTY characters and i promptly entered a 5 day drawing spree to make a comic which is something i have???? never done before??? i hope someone enjoys this it was super super fun
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I can't find my original post where I posted it the first time (the link I saved is dead for some stupid hellsite reason) but I was thinking about this poem today and I can't reblog it so I'm gonna repost it.
I use the same embroidery needle
Until I lose it or the nickel plating wears off.
But I'm careful about lost needles
After stepping on one barefoot.
So mostly my needles end up losing their skin.
And sometimes I think about
How my dad couldn't throw anything away
If it might be useful later.
That didn't give him the right
To treat us how he did.
But I can't throw anything away either.
My grandma is worse, though.
She's a hoarder of fabric
Not the "teehee my stash is large" type,
But rather, the "it's time for an intervention" type.
She lost everything when my grandpa went blind,
And now she can't get rid of fabric,
Or stop buying more.
I live in fear of becoming like her,
So caught up in poverty
That I collect and collect and collect.
I wear my grandmother's poverty
When I make my own clothes,
Because when I was born
My grandma made all my clothes.
Poverty does a lot to a person,
In little ways and big.
It teaches you to hold onto things.
Because you'll never know when you might need it.
And another pack of needles
Is $5 I could spend on survival.
Sometimes I don't have a lot,
But I have always had enough.
Even still, the only thing that I can easily get rid of
Is fabric.
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I picked my embroidery back up but then I was thinking about how I use my needles until well after the nickel plating has rubbed off because it seems like a waste of money to buy new needles. And that got me thinking about poverty and how my parents and grandparent's trauma from poverty has carried over into my life and is why I can't just buy myself another $3 pack of embroidery needles when this needle still sews. So I wrote this poem about it.
I use the same embroidery needle
Until I lose it or the nickel plating wears off.
But I'm careful about lost needles
After stepping on one barefoot.
So mostly my needles end up losing their skin.
And sometimes I think about
How my dad couldn't throw anything away
If it might be useful later.
That didn't give him the right
To treat us how he did.
But I can't throw anything away either.
My grandma is worse, though.
She's a hoarder of fabric
Not the "teehee my stash is large" type,
But rather, the "it's time for an intervention" type.
She lost everything when my grandpa went blind,
And now she can't get rid of fabric,
Or stop buying more.
I live in fear of becoming like her,
So caught up in poverty
That I collect and collect and collect.
I wear my grandmother's poverty
When I make my own clothes,
Because when I was born
My grandma made all my clothes.
Poverty does a lot to a person,
In little ways and big.
It teaches you to hold onto things.
Because you'll never know when you might need it.
And another pack of needles
Is $3 I could spend on survival.
Sometimes I don't have a lot,
But I have always had enough.
Even still, the only thing that I can easily get rid of
Is fabric.
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briar
posting briar's ref sheet here bc he is my child and i love him :)))
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