A wise man once said,
if you want to allow yourself a bread,
you need to know how to sell yourself
when he found my dusty grey shelf.
Young Me asked — “What is it that I need to sell,”
and he responded,
“sell your laugh
with a mouthful of pebbles in your mouth,
then sprawl your wings of a moth
and mimic a butterfly,”
“But, that's All I have left!” Young me screeched -
protecting the only vanity I possessed,
which I put on the market so cheap, so priceless
to those who never will to pay,
but I demanded the bidding too high
to those who gave me
a worthless charity,
a careless pity.
