Like schroedingers cat
The tank top strap you’re looking at
Wondering if it’s a bra or something far less scandalous
Is simultaneously both
Until you ask me for the truth.
Both options are the truth.
If you thought it was a bra
Wouldn’t that horribly horny boy sitting next to me in
Bible class think the same thing?
Wouldn’t his learning about Jesus be hindered by this
Schroedingers bra strap?
And the poison that may or may not have killed that cat
Is the same poison that may or may not be infecting his head?
The thought that somewhere,
Connected to this piece of fabric
Is a secret boob?
A secret boob that’s just hiding away
And waiting to be considered so intricately?
Well if that’s the case
I’m so terribly sorry.
I have to go change right away
I can’t go walking around showcasing the idea that I wear a bra,
It’s not like these boys can just see the shape of my body or anything.
I might as well just leave school for the whole day.
After all, my education doesn’t matter
And this tank top strap is just going to keep getting in the way
Until I find a different shirt to wear
Or a skirt that goes below my knees
Or pants that aren’t too tight
Or something just a little less scandalous
Until my schroedingers bra strap is effectively dead.
You killed it, go you!
You killed a philosophical phenomenon!
Your poison wiped out centuries of common sense,
Infected the minds of thousands of children,
Let them rot.
You taught girls that their necessities are shameful
That they are unimportant as human beings.
You taught boys that their dirty thoughts are fine
And that they are worthy of subsequent dirty actions,
That they don’t need to control themselves
Because they are our only future,
So I applaud you.
You have succeeded in making important change
By asking me a useless question
That has only led to confusion.
Your work today will not be forgotten.
In fact, I immortalized it for you.
So one day when you win your Nobel shame prize
Think of me
And my schroedingers bra strap.