Thanks to my gray sweatpants,
Which I'm pretty sure are supposed to be black.

Been washed so many times
They hardly keep me warm.

But it's the thought that counts.

Got that safety pin
Stuck in the waistband,
Holding the elastic
Where the last thread gave out.

That smiley face
On the right knee
In white nail polish
That refuses to fade away.

Thanks for the sick days in bed,
Watching my used-as-much-as-my-sweats copy of 50 First Dates.

And the lazy days in the classroom,
Because it's Friday,
Tomorrow's the weekend,
I can dress up on Sunday.

Yeah, I know they don't look that great,
But don't hate.
When I got on my sweats I don't want to be messed with.

My mom told me to throw them away,
But I just can't bring myself to do it.

Every time I pull them on
I think,
This is the last time.
But who am I kidding?

Thanks to my gray-black, threadbare sweatpants
For being there when I got on my
Hot-glued tennis shoes,
Lost track of how many years I've had this hoodie,
And my hair in a knot I'm justifying as a bun.