Sold.

[rewiiired]

Off we go, to find identity,
to seek out a label to rest our feet upon,
to use a banner as an anchor,
our substitution for a mirror lost.

Eyes abandoned within,
we seek a masque to advertise and reveal
to show our place and limitations,
associations and distinctions,
as we swiftly and eagerly become a prisoner
to our own borrowed definitions

unable to wash off them off our skin
the ink seeped so deep,
we scratch compulsively till we bleed
yet never so much as taint the tattoo.

So I don't want the jar,
for then I'll grow into its shape,
suffocating within its confines,
pushing against glass
refusing to break.

I don't want to know
for then it might be so.
If its never told then I won't be sold.
I don't want to know
for then it might be so.
If its never told then I won't be sold.