Its feigned objectivity

crisply ironed with the cost of ignorance.

Unstained

by the wearer's lack of intention.

Far from pure ––

with calculated aloofness.

How soon it forgets,

though rarely forgives

our shared history.

Priding the consumer's need

in its sustenance and power.

Its fabric no longer delicately woven

from dreams of multicolored shepherds

set free,

seeking to heal.

Now mass produced,

fit to provide

for an economy of its kind.

Forgetting that without you,

I am not.

May wrinkles and stains fall upon it,

graceful reminders of its truth.