Of Being a Rich Product


 

 There is something inside me

that wants to meet the real me

Wistfully passing a mirror

there I go

Conscientiously primping in a mirror

Can’t I just be Me?

As the wood creaks

the House settles

Each time a photo requests ransom

Was that the real Me?

 

There is something inside me

 

There is something inside me

that may need to remain unseen

What vulture takes the bad

and leaves the good for someone else

Though who can tell which is which

when all is but a slab of meat

and a voice

as a recording

 

Will I ever feel Hunger?

 

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