Secondhand

Ky Klassen

I like to say I thrift for the environment, But really those previously loved clothes Are the only version of that I’ve felt in a while. With a warm sensation sewed into every seam, No one minds how frayed the ends are If they have a red tag telling you they’re half the price they used to be. But when I’m actively falling apart Looking like I could be a half off of me, No one takes me to the donation center To turn into someone’s new old grandma’s sweater. They tell me I look the best I ever have When I’m the least alive-looking I’ve ever been, Seams ripped with ribs all showing. Then they’ll sell me to little girls at the mall And call me vintage.