In reality, you’re scantily clad, even with all those false beliefs and frivolous codes draped over your malevolent body. Satin from Satan. Leather skinned from lies. Your entire being is cloaked with guises to entrap the monstrosity encased by your weeping wardrobe. A simple twist at one of your loose, flailing fibers would unravel a cold, lifeless cadaver. A mannequin, wearing its proudest moments on sashes and badges. A model, showcasing society’s newest amoral trends and fashions. A designer, creating and simultaneously destroying the rags of sense and truth. Monotony interlaced with minuscule threads of bliss and ignorance.