by Anna Quinn F., 18
To completely damn the piece of clothing
Would be unnecessary
As it had its positives amongst the
Much louder negatives
It took away anxiety
Stress of picking a new outfit everyday
A burden I never had to bear
And lose more sleep over
But that hand-me-down skirt
Became the bane of my existence
Being the perfect outline and
Contour of my lower stomach
From 7th grade to my final year
I kept that skirt as the only honest judge
To my worth and value
As a person for the day
A fruitless existence it is
Letting a piece of worn cloth
Determine your merit as a human being
When its victim (my body) gave it life
Will I ever truly find peace
With who I am, even the traits I hate
If I let inanimate objects and shallow people
Be the ineligible masters of my own fate?
Franklin, Tennessee
Bridge Ink 