I was told my coat was made to be worn gallantly with pride,
To walk down streets and get eyes and whistles,
Such craving for pride leading to shame when the coat i have
is judged to be less than adorning.
The shop that sold it to me has plastered on it's wall stories of pride,
and all i can think of is: they have to sell me my worth?
Thank nakedness for it's truth, for what cannot be hidden.
The worth unseen, and my self worth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem