Feathers

[bravenak]

How are my clothes a crime?


I wear them well, I feel my shine.


My feathers of glory!


No flour sacks for me!


The situation is dire.


Gangsterized for my attire.


A thug is all you see.


“Look at me, I’m free!”


Your children, dress like I.


I’m just a little bit more fly.


Don’t judge a book, by it’s cover


But the book happens suffer


being the wrong color.