Minimum Wage War

I’ll trade my scars for bones
Dipped in white they harrow my soul
Carved pathways uproot and displace
But I can’t leave this place when tied

I’ll change my anchor of hold
It’s not like feeling free at all
More like being set loose, adrift
Lost in undulating cries

I’ll change my heart so cold
Finding beacons by accident at sea
I’ll make use of what’s crashing at me
Or at least I’ll say I tried

I’ll not do as I’m told
I will expand and contract ceaselessly
Confusing it for forward progress
It’s way more like side to side

I’ll trade my silver for gold
But are there any merchants left?
I’m just peddling wares naively
Until such that I retreat and hide

I’ll keep on getting old
At this rate my years will shrink
When all I do is think and think
Circling a weeping tide

I’ll lose what’s left I’m told
What so little there is but lines
Drawn so hard I can’t fool myself
So it’s come to this, pride.

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