I, Product

For those who struggle with the expectations of commercialism.

I, Product

 

 

I can’t be the market queen

Shiny teeth, pressed suit so clean

Standing stiff behind a glass desk

Shaking hands with all the rest

 

I can’t raise the bubbling glass

Tilt of head for a pictures flash

Wading deep in strangers smug

Purpose filled with but a wanted hug

 

I can’t sell my song tonight

Prose unpaid in the fading light

Cast these pages on a dusty shelf

Within them I couldn’t find myself

 

www.suburbanfiction.com

 

 

Reviews

[R.J. Seoul]

Really quite brilliantly written. I love the flow of the lines - the rhymes and rhythm mesh flawlessly.

[Drea]

I really like this one!

[Ahmad Alhour]

Nice and it could be nicer if it was sang!