The Women In My Closet

I have many different women
hanging in my closet,
Their skins of cotton and lace.

I have many different women
under my bathroom sink,
Each woman has a different face.

I have many different women,
makeup and wardrobe camouflage;
I desperately try to cover my raw skin.

Too soft, too weak, too worthless,
the girl beneath the costume;
Her disguise has begun to wear thin.