Imagine it's all a faze, that it will all fade
Stop.
Cease.
Halt.
END.

Dirt filled shoes, and grass weaved hair
Fierce eyes that won't free their gaze
Fierce hands that won't grasp the emptiness they hold.
Fall for shame that consumes the pride
that's willingly left up for grabs,
Bare.
Vulnerable.
Marketed.
Ready to be diddled, fiddled and bargained.

Hold them coins high
Watch them turn to ash
Feel, as the wind filters through your fingers
and from your hand, the I-couldn't-care-less set of mind
take its place among the synapses that are
cut and restrung,
erased and retraced.

Fall for shame so that you know your chest cavity center piece
still feels as it should,
when worn on your sleeve.

Maybe, if you can regain pride
If you consume shame
If you kick of those shoes and kiss the dirt
Gold will become like coal
And the wind like a string of pearls.