you cannot have
what’s been claimed before you
i’ll always be second hand goods
There is not a single part of me that would wistfully say, ‘here, take me’.
Why when I never was, to begin with.
The idea of taking something, means that thing exists.
But do excuse my over-philosophising,
really, I don’t exist.
Oh but those who never saw me before,
would rise with the scientists fervour,
argue with rhetoric,
debate with logic,
take to my neck with evidence and war.
Ironically, in proving my existence,
would slay me even more.
Nay, I don’t exist,
but if you must, please persist,
show me how,
have I come into your view
and in your vision subsist?
It’s much too late,
I’ve bitten my fate,
you couldn’t dig me out,
of self harms grout,
I’m smitten with vanishing,
and in this vapour, articulate.