Gloves

I know it isn't cold,

But perhaps my hands are.

Yes they are fingerless,

Which makes no sense to you.

But the cold is not the reason I wear them.

 

I wear the gloves for safety,

A warmth I can't seem to find.

They hide my shaking hands.

They hide my anxious mistakes.

They hide my shames.

 

I wear the gloves to hide

The rough and torn up skin.

Where they resemble my torn up mind.

My pains, my fears, my mistakes.

I need to hide it all,

Hide my body and mind.

Keep it all quiet,

Keep it all inside.

 

I wear my gloves all the time,

As people think nothing.

Unaware of what I hide,

I smile and laugh along.

With my gloves I am invincible,

I am invisible,

I am safe to be myself.

This poem is about: 
Me

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