MY COMMODITY

I remember how I felt, when I was still alive...

Young, hopeful, ambitious - BEAUTIFUL,

Thinking my day would come,

And my wait would pay off.

 

Never, ever did I think that I would become a victim.

Bait. A target for some game I could never figure out.

Never had I, the idea that all LOVE would STOP.

Never returned. And that I wore my heart on my sleeve.

 

That everybody around me were hovering vultures -

Salivating as they fluttered above; waiting for my moment of death.

 That never came...

 

To collect the ransom of my life -

All at the cost of my commodity.

 

Yvonne Renee Moore

This poem is about: 
Our world

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