The Dress

July 17, 2012
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I am cloth.
The first thing I remember is seeing a young girl,
seventeen or so, pick me up,
carry me to her bench.
Then the work starts,
Not long after,
I’m in many parts, and now I’m passed along the line,
this girl looks too tired.
she makes many mistakes as she sews me up.
I’m passed along again to be,
sewn some more.
This time it’s a boy
about sixteen, about to pass out.
After he’s done his clumsy work I’m
put in a box, afraid of what will happen.
I wait.
Soon enough I’m in a store.
People look, some pass me by.
I wait for weeks. After a while I’m
Sold, sold to a woman to wear to a party.
Everyone complimented us, the woman
And her dress
Now that I’m nearing the end
I sit and think about my life
Nearing the end
I remember the first day of my life
The three who made me who I am.





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