Dirty Shirt

"What does it hurt?"
You say to no one
Just you and a dirty shirt
But it's the only one
The blue stain
That you cannot explain
A red feather
An a thread of leather
This shirt has seen it all
But it can't explain
It's on a ride
And can't decide
Without a fate
It can't hesitate.
You want to be this shirt
At least you think
What could it hurt?
To be a patchwork of stains
That way you don't have to strain
Why can you be a shirt?
You with you could explain.