my clothes
i rip open my wardrobe door
i fling the clothes
left
right
covering the mess i made
i could clean it up
or i could leave it
leave all the clothes scattered across the floor
as if it were a map to understanding me
behind every messy room is a deeper story
shirts that drape over my chest that were supposed to protect me
ripped open with criticism
the armour of the shoulder padded blazer wasn’t enough to protect me
the tie that snakes around my neck
strangling me
the top button of my shirt bites into me
sinking it’s venomous teeth
poisoning my mind
do i look ok
are my clothes alright
i pull them off of me
scrubbing my skin
trying to be clean from certain clothes
but once someone sees you wearing something risky
once you flash someone
once you undress infront of someone
you cannot take it back
but these are just clothes
right?
i can cover up and wear new ones
try find new armour to repair the old
and my room is just my room
i can just shove all those clothes ok my floor to the side
i can continue to hide under the piles
and i am just me
but there is no escaping that skin of clothes.
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