I am not cut from a different cloth,
My fabric is just starting to look quite distinct,
Who knew wear and tear would increase its worth,
Who knew it would recover from blood and sweat stained ink,
It has seen stress and been handed to tailors seamsters and a seamstress,
Tailor made for any and all hard times,
Perfectly suited for any and all success,
Had me walking ever so boldly in happiness,
Had me looking in the mirror different,
No matter the flaws It has God in its essence,
I am not cut from a different cloth,
But best believe I know my worth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem