It’s dark and cold in here.
The only light I receive,
Come from the top and bottom;
One from the angels above,
The other from the fires of hell.
No one seems to be near.

I hang from the rack.
I’ve been in here so long,
It’s practically suffocating me.
But I must wait,
For if I leave now,
I will never be able to go back.

I was given to him before,
Not as a gift or present,
Rather, I was naturally inherited.
I was ridiculed even before.
Before I was brought into the closet.
Now it’s not even a joke anymore.

I hate the closet.
I want to be worn and shown,
But if he does that,
He will meet the same fate.
Hung by a thread.
And he will never leave the closet.