hand~me~down

sometimes

it can be
the world

that fears you


collective thoughts
of what's in fashion
the tolleration

of others
toward you

and

many times for
false reasons


in my youth
i ony wore

hand~me~downs

shoes that worn
on forever

stained clothing

although i was
reassured

this was never
anything to be

embarrased
about


socks
that rarely
matched

because they
came in a Goodwill box


and nothing
really ever fit~

too small,
too big

buttons always
poping off


threadbare nightmares
seams ripped
unwanted pant cuffs

countless
alterations


like that,

i grew up
that way


always in
someone elses~

that they wore
them new


that they grew out
and i grew in,

just how it had been


with rusty zippers
and soiled collars

and elbow
and knee patches


that i just didn't
know anything

different
nor better


and those were the years
that i felt i was always

somebody else

myself not that
meaningful


that slowly,
pieces
of my soul
were thrown away

because they
were too old

and faded


never good enough
to feel


new


hopes
of pride


as diminished
and


sedated