What's the price of my soul
And the guilt wrapped inside
Am I too good to live
Or too good to die?
Is it worth all your hatred?
Or eternal damnation?
I admit, my soul, is torn.
What's the price of my spirit
At the silent auction?
What's the worth of my heart
Cleaved in two?
Put out your wallets
Your check books
And buy a shard of me
My worth, defined by you.
What's the price of my heart
And the cracks up the sides
Am I too chipped to fix
Or to just toss aside?
It's worth all the poison
I've swallowed it whole
I admit, my soul, is torn
What's the price of my soul
At the silent auction?
What's the worth of myself
At your call?
Pull out your wallets
Your check books
And buy a slice of me
My worth, defined by you
I come as unit
Or as tiny slivers
You can get me in red, grey or white
You can toss out my feelings, my thoughts and expressions
Extra packaging you found you don't use.
What's the price of my soul
At the silent auction
What's the worth of my mind
Damned from use?
Pull out your wallets
Your check books
And buy a piece of me
My worth, defined by you.
YOU ARE READING
Writing is What Makes Us Human
PoetryAssorted Poetry: Communication is paramount in a world that won't talk about what really matters. Writing is what makes us human. Connection is what makes us live.
