A closet full of black shirts

Though I may look good in this black shirt,
I wear it to hide my insecurities, flaws, thoughts that hurt.
Sooner or later they’ll find out it’s a facade,
Realize I’m nothing more than a fraud.
Stretch marks, pimples, jiggles galore,
A constant reminder of the excess skin I once wore.
Finding excuses when I’m invited to the pool,
Worried people would be cruel like those bullies in school.
So I go to the gym to try and get buff,
Hoping that she will think I’m enough.
Even with all of this extra fluff.