The wear of life
I put on my life again today,
wrinkled, frayed around the edges.
Stains a map of lived-in lives
and threadbare broken pledges.
Yes, I put it on again today,
I have no other life to wear.
It is quite snug and fits me rather well
despite the signs of wear-and-tear.
I'd like to get another one
that shows I'd taken better care.
The odds on this, I know, are slim,
I'd hire one, but from where?
Reflecting now, its fitting
that I put it on with pride.
My life, no worse than others who
wear tailored dreams in which to hide.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.