“The White Noise when it’s Quiet”

If you were to ask,

In your echoed voice,

For your simple task,

 “Would you change, given the choice?”

 

No. 

No, not even if you had said,

Like white-noise in my head,

That all will adore, 

“If thou’st abhor’d”,

One single aspect of myself.

 

I have bled, bruised, coughed and sputtered,

In my vulnerability, my ego fluttered,

And I am not sorry for it.

Not one molecular bit. Damn it.

 

I love myself, and I can rightfully say,

That the white noise is not loud enough to change me,

No dollar. No bill.

No gold, and no gilded illusion,

will ever make me different

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