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.
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