To the people,
Who wear their stories on their sleeves
Brazenly, shamelessly,
And speak as if wearing designer brand attire.
You are the exhibitionist,
Who complains about their clothes
Only because they think they deserve so much better.

To the people,
Who say nothing.
Timid and pitiable.
Silent and unwilling to tell the world why they're wearing rags.
You are the real victim.
Who has stitched their lips closed about their life.
Because you wear your dirtied cloth like warriors wear defeat,
You tell no one for fear of receiving sympathy.

It is curiosity that kills you.
You are subject to interrogation after interrogation.
You have shut your mouth about your rags
But the mystery of a book unopened by any is bound to be more attractive
Than any book that lays wide, pages straddling the vast sky,
Spilling its contents onto the floor for all to see.