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Sold to a familiarity and sold to a friend.

Soul too feeble, a soul to suspend.

Where in tradition have I offered a helping hand.

Where altruism remains a deceptive act of humility

A paradox of kindness, paradigms of humanity.

In good faith and in the mirage of time, on my unconditional help, I have you depend.


And I am sold, with nothing left on to me,

For this selfless act of humility

Deceives me to deliver more with my capability,

My honor, my rage now how do I defend?

On my cost of this hallucination of time, I have you depend.


With this simplistic modesty,

I remain nothing but a commodity,

Non-monetary transactions, have me sold to an expense,

Words of wisdom that may return?

With non-altruistic models of suspense.

For it has come to me to give my all, without an end.

For I am sold to you, on the cost of expensive clocks, on me I have you depend.


This transaction remains lost in time,

The vendor talks to the customer, no sales tax combined.

A plethora of consignments delivered, dilapidated on-lookers, costly affairs in line.

For have I sold jewels, and precious rhinestones, paintings of the mighty lords,

or on crowns, I have had the vendor spend.

Sale on soul, and sold the soul, cost in-effective strategies too rigid to bend.

customer to be left with hollow virtues, on the cost of this carcinogen called time, he has you at will, he has you depend.

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About Post Author

Shreya Dayal