My head in hands
My weeping stifled
the creatures in my head
swirling screaming tormenting each and every thought daring enough to cross my mind.
each comment a blow to my character.

These spiraling insecurities unthinkably true.
Could it be true?

Swampy hands pulling me under
under civilization
a whirlpool of consumerism
selling the next thing
selling me

I DON'T WANT TO BE SOLD

I battle these ideas, these values being forced upon me
They lock me in jail.
I plead
They only stare back at me with stone hard eyes.

I pout.
I will not be sold
I will not be some media *******
I am me.
I cannot be advertised.
I cannot be owned.

"Take your commanding hold of me"
I will not succumb to your sickly media culture
I will not hold off for you.

You may hold me in this suffocating cell for as long as you please
I may live and die a captive
But I will never be yours