I am the old shirt, who was once
vivid and bright.
The shirt that was worn all of the time,
by a variety of fascinating people.
I've met many different individuals.
They've become woven into me.
My fibers hold their unique personalities
Whereas I was once a charming shirt,
it is true that I am worn out.
My sleeves are tearing.
I've been through the wash too much
And I am shrunken and wrinkly.
I can't take much more people
because I will become a different shirt.
What if I become dull?
A deep gray.
Or what if I become
black?
Black as the night.
Angry,
hateful,
and dark.
I don't like looking at my fading color.
I don't like that people have handled me
so roughly.
I once was a shirt with its own personality
but now I am like the rest.
Boring.
Bland.
Just like any other shirt
hiding in the closet.
Just another shirt.