Poetry

‘I don’t like to conform’ said the guy to his friend
‘Don’t like to be normal to fade in or blend’
They pushed past the racks of clothing on view
And hunted around for something new
‘Can I help at all? ’ said girl in the shop
‘Are you looking to get yourself a new top? ’
He smirked, gestured the racks of clothes
‘You have anything that’s different from those? ’
‘I don’t want to look the same as the rest’
The girl looked thoughtful at the request
Then gestured him to follow near
And after checking the coast was clear
She reached below the desk for a bag
And from it produced a shirt like rag
It was black with silver skulls stitched in
And buttons made from twisted up pins
The sleeves were jagged and collar was frayed
And layers of black were overlaid
‘I have just this one, I made it myself’
‘It not normal enough to put on the shelf’
‘The owner wouldn’t let me display it’
‘Said that the look just didn’t fit‘
The guy smiled and said ‘that’s the one’
‘Something to stand out from everyone’
‘Something unique, something bizarre’
‘To show the rest as the sheep that they are’
He bought the shirt there and then
And putting it on strutted off again
The shop girl smiled, and checked the till tray
That was 12 of those shirts she’d sold today