Thursday, September 25, 2014

Itchy

Who was I?
I remember wanting clothes to fit
Not just fit me
Like my cousin’s uncomfortable hand-me-downs
But be made for me
Like a fine-tailored suit
But I wouldn’t want a suit
Because that meant
A piano recital
Or a funeral
I remember things itchy and uncomfortable
Like the fifth grade
Where I could never enjoy the morning
Ever again

And where there were no windows.

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