oligarchy

oligarchy
why am i so willing to give myself to you?
claim I’d never do it, yet i fear that isn’t true.
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why so eager to sacrifice my dreams after a glance,
to an unknown person whose looks caught me in a trance?
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i pray against you, yet my desire looms day by day
initially gave you little thought, now you’re all that i can pay
attention to when you inch the slightest bit to me
—i want to pound this needy wish out of my soul, you see.
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i exclude myself when girls gossip over you, fear it’d drive me insane
but inside, my eyes greener than hills, threatening to sprain
the ligaments of my sore, crafty mask i have worn for ages
my mind screams mocks and insults as they roam outside bittersweet cages
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like the narrow cage i’m corralled to, for the better or for worse,
as the green still festers and festers, grows too, too perverse
this futile, flimsy, feather thing that makes up the lot
of my self-worth’s oligarchy,
a fiery boiling pot.
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the pot’s water is the only Truth and Love
with the capacity to fill me, the pure Dove
which strengthens and enlivens my spirit
which shall never rightfully be to merit
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yet the stove boasts ninety-nine degrees,
most water evaporates, salt it leaves,
a salt with horrid, bitter flavor, far too powerful;
yet it is almost the only member that withstands the fiery pull.
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so it gains full power over my House,
overthrows all my values, dirties my blouse,
often it seems the only elect with power to change
my decaying worth in derange.
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and so i slowly try to consume more Water,
vow to never wear makeup, fearing slaughter,
‘modest’ daughter who seeks and detests the high esteem of others
praying not to lose herself for an earthly lover.