Damaged Goods

I’m wearing your red flag. You now have a strand of my hair in your possession. I breathe into your brown paper bag. And my lips are swollen. I succumb to the pollution as I inhale your tainted air. I’ve grown up in so many ways. Yet I still have fool written on my face. My skin is up in flames. It’s crowded here in my hiding place. Will these demons ever call it a day? This place is infected with your poison And so is my sanity. My thoughts conditioned to your control. Powerless against the storm in my mind. Just another lost soul.