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Ps.27 Paparazzi

You think you can win? With your million images snatched; Million moments stolen. You might have won before, Sold life for highest price, Hounded; thinking them a dog; Feeding the insatiable with the unsensational. They invited you in and you wouldn’t leave.

You think you know me? Have right to know? Think your welcome? Think you can lift my head and love me, Raise my head as a trophy? You think your celebration will entice me in, Your besieging of my life will draw me out, Catch me so you can have me; Think you might live if you see enough? Think you might, might … I don’t even know? What … win? You think you can win; If you trip me up and tear me down, If your missolic barrage breaks me, overtakes me? You seek exposure but are set so wrong, So your lies fall silent as I break the fast of the night, Your images fade a million times. I laugh because I am still all I ever was, My soul is not taken, never captured.  None of me is yours. You own no rights.

And I am guarded by this impenetrable certainty: I am.

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