Tattered Clothes & Unraveled Stitched Dreams

My first cry was met with ecstasy,
I was promptly dressed in tattered clothes,
A lost stitch, a thread exposed,
Fabric to be tested by life’s cruel impulses.

Smiling and dancing, my routine.
Fear hiding in the darkest shadows,
Would they notice the weak patchwork?
Why did I have to wear these tattered clothes?

Working tirelessly to hide the holes in my sleeve,
When walking among my normal peers.
Their clothes, perfect and unscarred.
They probably will run if the holes are visible.

I met a girl once who kissed the broken seams,
All my stitched dreams unraveled.
Was she blind to see the holes in my clothes?
That’s why I had to let her go,
She was from the age of tattered trends.

Time to reaffirm to myself that tattered clothes,
Aren’t just wearable, they’re a trend.
They still protect the skin and keep me warm.
Instead of hiding, learn to sew,
And let go of the fear.