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.