You found me broken and in a mess
You came in as if a traveling salesman
You knocked on my chest to see if it was vacant
You didn't take no for an answer
You sold a potion I desperately needed

Your compassion and love healed and rebuilt
Your hands reassemble this skeletal mess
Your eyes saw the best of what was inside
Your teeth and tongue assuaged  
Your body so titillating

Time passes
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I no longer need the product that you were so adept at selling

Always one step ahead
In order to sell more
I had to break down

You secretly created tragedy
You shakespearean
You left me the way I was found
You came knocking again
You charlatan

A fool and his money eh?
Or is it me that is selling a product?