Jump in rank, or in status — it matters not to me.
I am not a promotion. I’m not trying to be
Anyone or anything to them I remain
A thing they can sell, I have not a name.
To them I’m a light with immunity
For them, they think and how can it be?
I was sold as a barcode and beat to a fray.
I was starved and vaulted meaning only to they
An object that they could rest and behoove
I would stay in the glass and never move
’til attraction brought reign and absolute rule
As they dreamt and thought and sat on their stool.
Had they known themselves, it was only they
Who were their great enemy who had final say.
The Very Most Next Thing 