One day I walked home afterschool alone,
So peaceful of singing wind and trees
When a man, so clean, spoke in a harsh tone,
“Why do you wear a jacket so filthy?

The torns can be visible and I see those
Bleached spots and mud stains are so disgusting.”
I stood and stared as the man glared so close
To my jacket that seemed so revolting.

I spoke to him as if it were my turn,
“I knew its filth I knew far earlier,
Still it is my dad’s who said he’d return,
But I know he won’t, I know better,

My sad mother said he was in the skies,
But I know better, I know it were lies.”