To the Shirt!

Oh! My shirt,
Lovely you! Posing as me
In this season of fake,
Giving me an identity
And representing me wherever I go, about
And humming in their tunes!

Oh! My shirt,
You allow me to live this life
Like never before
In this season of tardiness
Playing my unwashed body
Like a poor man’s cruse
Empty though, yet filled with pride.

Oh! My shirt,
I have no qualms living like this
Carrying you, instead of my body;
In fact, my body
It befits a decor for borrowed coffins.
From some crafty carpenter
Ready to be buried without a penny
Without the parting ceremony!

Yet my dear shirt,
Bring me the finest of robes
I want to walk these fine roads
For one last time, in your garb
In the finest grandeur,
So bring me the best of your robes.
Don’t you know:
They all come in their finest attire
Silky smooth shiny clothes,
So that they call me their friend;
And I am tired of this isolation -- 
Hiding, wearing only you
Like my own skin.

They even said, I stink
But you don’t know, that’s not on me;
They were talking about...
It’s you, in your fetish for this body
Tell me what’s in this body
That you can’t let go,
No, don’t say you can’t shed me off my skin!