A dubious poem

Dealing with doubt
a poem by yours truly

Marching on, forging ahead, head held high and proud
A nail or some other jagged thing is snatched upon
Snagged, dragged, jagged it tenaciously rides unnoticed.
Unnoticing, you may carry on without the slightest notion
A minor rip, run or tear
Damage that could easily have been averted.

But much worse
is soldiering on regardless
with false confidence and brutish strength
The fitful jerks and cries of your shredding garment the soundtrack to your struggle.

A booming, echoing soundtrack obliterating original purpose
Finally, fed up and frustrated,
Haste overrides guilt
And so the wound lingers, cankerous and angry now
A precarious patchwork of blame and self-hatred always on the brink of unraveling
It becomes easier to ignore than to address.
Nobody likes being nagged.

Far better, we know
Not only know but can do
Far better to accept the existence of unknown setbacks
Numerous, insignificant, they are but temporary:
A brief change of pace and a sprinkle of attention
and they fall away like dominoes,
fortresses of neglect a-toppling,
Jericho's walls of regret tumbling down.

So I suppose it is true what they say:
a stitch in time really does save nine.

Sometimes I wish I knew what that really meant.