Cloth-Covered Self-Consciousness

cloth-covered self-consciousness is hiding myself from a conscious world
so used to caring about the way a woman looks, judging her on the
shortness of her skirt, the height of her heels, the thickness of her thighs…

cloth-covered self-consciousness is being wrapped up in cotton and wool
warm inside the self-made cocoon, hiding from the critical eyes
hiding from boys and driving myself mad trying to look perfect.

cloth-covered self-consciousness is being hurled into a never-ending procession
of make-up and matching prints and tidy, straightened hair, I swear
if that boy never looks at me, I’ll die – even though secretly dig his sister…

cloth-covered self-consciousness is buying more clothes to cover up because
the feeling of the fabric against my skin is more comfortable than the feeling
of another person’s flesh touching mine.

cloth-covered self-consciousness is being told from birth to look and act
like a lady, is feeling compelled to leave the house looking like the perfect doll
is in a small packaged dropped at your door every other week.

cloth-covered self-consciousness is me placing my self-worth in pieces of fabric
and then shamed because I spend my hard-earned money on material items; they say
money can’t buy happiness, but cloth-covered self-consciousness is the only happiness I have…

Raelee Lancaster






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