I find myself selling my soul for a body to hold.
The deal is raw, but I’m already sold.
My bargaining chip is rolling off the table.
My breathing is heavy, ragged, and unstable.
Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul.
Give me a price, I’ll pay it all.
Judgement is past and you can’t take it back.
I have come to terms that where I shop, the market is black.