Cloth

Tear me
from your very fabric
I’d choose new shoes
A fashion,
passion
of my very own

then I will hate you
when my clothes don’t fit
or when people
point & laugh
At the discount rack
because
I can’t afford to be
a real boy

toy with manufacturer’s
batteries gone dead
dripping acid upon
hands
irresponsible

unresponsive cloth
to mop up
lifetimes
of spilled milk

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