The Fabric of Exposure

A crumpled gown hangs like an old, tired ghost,

its fabric whispering secrets I fear the most.

In waiting rooms, echoes of sterile light,

the chill of vulnerability steals my night.

Threads of uncertainty thread through my mind,

a reminder that courage is often unkind.

Each moment suspended, the clock ticks away,

yet here in this fabric, my fears are on display.