Existence

I have become a Product, a mere target
My existence cannot be proven,
By thought or by my contribution
It can be defined by the perfume I use
The colour of my hair
The books on my shelf

My heart beats for no one
Its is just an organ that help me to live
My fingertips don’t touch anything
They are just part of my beautiful hands
My eyes do not look into anyone
It just stops me from tripping on the footpath

The minute I step into my branded shoes,
I cease to exist
All I want now it to feel something real.
I want to slit my wrists,
Watch the scarlet ebbs of liquid fall
Feel the pain swallow me whole
Face my creator, my energy, my god
I just want to feel safe
I just want to exist.

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