honor

I suppose there is a reason honor is admirable.
   Honor is difficult.
honor is painful
 If it wasn't everyone would have it.
   But as it is Most simply wish that they did. 

But I think those wishers misunderstand what it truly means. 
This honor

Honor means that you value everyone's feelings equally,

 except your own.

   Which swings hanging from a tree in the background Like a jacket on a hangar in a closet in a house that you're often not in

often seen

but rarely acknowledged

Something ornate and antique

Well preserved mostly, it's threads and tapestry

But the moths that eat are freely strewn across them. 

it paints a somber picture
A grey and desaturated life busy painting vibrance around it
Where life itself is lost to a self constructed structure
Yet every day you continue to choose it

So it must have some great value. 

Surely
it must. 

Or else you are the greatest thief to have ever stolen from yourself