Shadow of Becoming

Worth

People say I am worthless, a fleeting remark,
Yet the line between compliments and insults grows dark.
Every word they say twists in my mind,
A cruel echo that leaves me confined.

What is my worth in this world of despair?
A question unanswered, heavy to bear.
Am I but a pawn in life's cruel game,
Expendable, nameless, without acclaim?

They tell me life cannot be measured by gold,
Yet the world I see tells a story untold.
Where bodies are sold as a badge of pride,
Flaunted online, with honor implied.

Is that what worth has come to mean?
An exchange of dignity for what's seen?
If wealth defines value, where do I stand?
Lost in this world, I don't understand.

The question of worth gnaws at my soul,
A persistent void, never whole.
It drags me down to the depths of my mind,
Where purpose and value are hard to find.

I try to find meaning in the things I do,
In the paths I tread, and the views I pursue.
But each step feels hollow, each action in vain,
As I wrestle with questions that only bring pain.

Worth feels like a fleeting, fragile thread,
A whisper of hope in a world painted red.
And yet, I wonder, if I ceased to exist,
Would my absence even be noticed or missed?

Perhaps worth isn't something we define,
But a fleeting shadow, a construct of time.
A measure imposed by a world unkind,
That forces its judgment upon the mind.

Still, I can't help but question it all,
My worth, my purpose, my rise, my fall.
Am I enough, or simply too flawed?
A soul forever at odds with God.

In this labyrinth of thoughts, I remain,
Seeking answers that only bring pain.
Yet deep within, a faint light glows,
A small hope that someday, I'll know.

For now, I linger in this uncertain fight,
Wrestling with shadows in the absence of light.
Hoping that worth, elusive and shy,
Will someday reveal the reason why.