Final Thread

I am an unwanted dress hanging in a closet filled with hope.
Dreaming to be worn.
Ragged.
Holes.
Covered in the dust which was caused by the angry stomps of owners whom once loved me, the dress.
My buttons slowly drifting away while my collar stay connected.
My collar keeps my flowing skirt confident as the doors to my dark home open and close.
My collar allows my chest to keep it's shape giving it the appearance of a beating heart.
I, the unwanted dress, will continue swaying with the mockery from the frayed jeans and creased Oxfords for I know my
Raggedy
Holes
will be chosen once more.
I will know this as my final thread rips from my collar causing my lifeless fabric to drown into the hardwood floor feeling nothing but strength.
I am the unwanted dress, hanging in a closet filled with hope.
Dreaming to be worn.
Raggedy.
Holes.
Dead.