Women Wear 30 Percent Of Their Closet

I am a dreamer

And not always for the best

Or the realest

Sometimes it’s just an empty chest

I read books, magazines, playbooks

But I’m blind to your games

But I’m searching, anxious to find

Familiarity, I have a nose for sameness

I don’t know a lot of girls

But that’s mostly my fault

I did, though, through my heart

To wear all my outfits

That I don’t fit in, is my mortal sin

The scarf I wear, to immortal chagrin

Hooded and gloved I go into battle

Against bikinis and shorts, I lose sight of the actual

The reality I try to ignore

I strip you of your clothing, onto the floor

And force you into this image

I’ve created in my sleep, in my bore

Syd became Athena became Molly

Became Tyler became Isabel became Lemon

Became Flawed, just another day of folly

I think the problem is me

But I only wear what I want you to see

Women only wear 30% of their closet

And I wear all of mine

But maybe that’s what’s wrong with my mind

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