I put shame in my pocket. I'll never let anyone see. I bury the insecurities six feet underneath. It is about a life ago deep. I lie about the hole inside of me. Shame isn't impressive. Shame is an ugly garment. Don't you get the message? It begs for my attention but I stifle it into hiding. I put it into my pocket and sugarcoat its existence with euphemisms to lessen the reality it's providing. I put it away. "Stay!" I can't look at it directly. Often on my knees at its sight because of how it affects me. I put shame in my pocket but it is often revealed. Shame transforms into depression and anxiety. I need a pill to deal. Disgraceful and tasteless. I'm not graceful. I'm faceless. I'm faceless in the face of shame. The truth is ugly but it's true that I'll never be the same. I put shame in my pocket.