Without an inhibition
We’re all naked when we’re born
From that moment we are taught
That clothing must be worn

All throughout our history
The styles have come and gone
We dress in hopes we might impress
Perchance that we may spawn

Some cultures fill their skin with ink
Or smear their face with ashes
Some wear funny patterned ties
Or robes with matching sashes

If armies wore their birthday suits
As each came into sight
They’d see that they are just alike
And not know who to fight

Primetime Rhymes Publishing
© Copyright, September, 2017
All Rights Reserved

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