If i could be your clothes, I'll hang over your bones.
Every hour, every day.

I can be your invisible cloak when anxiety reigns the day.

I can be your superhero costume, not just the ones for Halloween. This cloth would have you feeling godly, or at least a bit better than OK.

I'd be the holes in your jeans when you feel empty, I'll be the broken button or the torn off flap on your penguin backpack when you feel broken.

On your worse days, yes, I will be the noose around your neck, or the blood soaked sleeves on your favorite sweater, that goblin mask when you feel less beautiful than you usually do.

A demon when you feel unholy, your blank mask when you feel you're nobody. Your blindfold when you feel lost. Fear not, and please let these be fashion statements.

If I could be your clothes, I'd express you, have you say things that are too deeply lodged in your mind. You speak things like "help"—or "today I don't feel well" or "I haven't felt well in a quite some time now". I'd have you say things that you can't push out. The words that roll your tongue back, restrict your air, knot your stomach. Things like "today, I might hurt myself" or " I don't know who I am anymore"

Maybe one day I'll be the smallest piece of lingerie, God forbid I have to show the scars. The ones that shouldn't be there. The ones you didn't put there. The pain your feel everyday, maybe one day, I'll find the perfect outfit, it'll say " people close to me hurt me everyday. People I can't run away from" maybe it'll say "stop that's off limits" or " I feel vulnerable" I'll be your "stop", your "get off me". Your screams, your whispers. I'll dress you so loud someone would have to hear you right?

If I could be your clothes, I'll hang over your bones.

Every hour, everyday.

Please speak to somebody before you pull the trigger, I promise you I won't reject you— I'll show you this world has beauty, despite what you've been given. Call me.