Always rolled down
No matter how cold or warm
Matched only by her frown
All this becoming her norm.

There not for comfort
But to hide her secret
Wishing she could wear something short.
But all she can do is regret.

There matching her best fake smile.
Knowing the pain comes at a price
Passing it all off as a new style
Lying to herself when saying it looks nice.

Like them her jeans are the same
A method of covering what's underneath.
Yet knowing only she is to blame.
But then she remembers the relief.

Sleeves.
They cover a world of sin
The scars continue while she grieves
She knows she will never win

Let her hide once more
Please don't open her door
Her clothing hides her world of pain
Because she feels as if she has nothing left to gain..