‘Clothes’ Poem

Woe is me! 

I lay splayed upon the floor

She treats us with such apathy

Leaves us here behind closed doors

She peels us off late at night

The ground is our home

What a sight!

Bill yesteryear was crushed by a tome

I’ve got it!

We shall rebel

We’ll throw a fit

In anger we’ll yell

No longer shall she leave us here

Uncared for, stepped upon

Collecting soot, we can only shed tears

Until the day she selects us to don

And when we’re worn!

I bear several stains

What was a rip is further torn

Spiteful feelings I can no longer detain

I’ve got it!

We’ve got to fight

Stab her when she tries to sit

Dig into her arm with all your might

We’ll cut her, stab her

Make her pay

Become one with a burr

We’ll show her like this we cannot stay