I gild myself
in a sheet of
plastic, thick enough
so that no one
can see through…

Like an Easter egg shell;
I let them hollow out
the sloppy insides,
and paint my delicate skin.

I am no individual, I am
cultivated, harvested,
like the simple product I am.
Protect me: my flesh is delicate,
They’ll throw me away
at the first sight of a crack.

You consume my comrades,
But I am lucky—
I am now but a pretty little shell,
Painted pink and lush to conceal the sallowness
of my frail and immaculate skin.