Paid In Thorns

Replace discovery with compliance. Who are you really? In lieu of passion, substitute with avarice and tell the world what they call you. Keep mum of the pleas that it’s the ticket that you buy; Save the truth, we want facts! Were they generous to your feelings, Or only starving to utilize your charm? Was it the words - which you burned up to uncover – or The lipstick stains across your likeness? You’re not a person; you’re a product, And now I own you. The ground beneath you shakes if I bore of your magic. Elusive as you were, stunning as you could be, trapped inside a glass jar that we break when we want to.