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.