Put a price on yourself.                                                                                     
Tell me, what's the value of your life?                                                               

When did metal become your god,
slithering upon your wrists
and enveloped within the confines
of your lips.
You practice your idolatry,
revering the cold embrace
of stainless steel.

Put a price on yourself.                                                                                       
Tell me, what's the value of your life?                                                               

How did you get here,
teeth clattering on your god
of false hope?
Put under so much pressure
to leave a mark on the world,
make a difference, be different
(but not too different)
that instead you settle
for leaving scars in your wake.
The marks on your skin
and the ache left in their hearts-
is that the target you were aiming for?

Put a price on yourself.                                                                                       
Tell me, what's the value of your life?                                                               

Stop.
Breathe.