This doesn't feel like a poem, but I think it is

There's this anthology that I'm supposed to submit something to, and it primarily consists of poetry. I normally don't write poetry, but this came to me tonight, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I sent it off already, but luckily I can send up to 10 things so if I read this tomorrow and decide I hate it I haven't lost my shot. Comment if you wish.

The Wardrobe of Cool

I only wanted to be cool.
First with billowing jeans and snug bodysuits,
which accentuated a lack of cleavage and skin too pale.

I only wanted to be cool.
This time with flannel shirts and combat boots.
The flannel was warm but the boots were heavy and way too expensive.

I only wanted to be cool.
Now I was all about band T-shirts and skater shoes.
The cotton wore thin and the shoes
eventually lost their vinyl luster.

I only want to be me.
I wear whatever the hell I want
No longer defining myself or my self worth
By how well I fill out a piece of fabric.