Attach a price tag to my body.
What would I be worth?
A crumpled dollar bill abused by negligent hands?
Or a fine wine, whose bitter fruit is craved by pious tongues?
Either way, I would be undervalued.
For the same world that gave the withered bank-note it’s value,
tried to steal it, break it, and damage it beyond repair.
My worth comes from higher,
The world cannot label what was never theirs.
Oh, how powerful the clock can be!
Or is it, how two-faced taste can be?
The aged merlot grew into its flavor.
Undesirable at first, bland at best.
But years sitting in an untouched cellar,
Left it to blossom like a starved rose.
Oh, how the world praises the destination,
But never the journey.
At face value, I am the reflection in the mirror,
Dark skin and dense limbs,
But peel back a layer,
And I am bold thoughts and infinite dreams.
Like the shining stars in the sky,
I lie hidden in plain sight.
Waiting to be seen by the shadows of the night.
So confine me to a meager dollar or cherish me like a coveted glass of Château Latour.
Either way, I would be undervalued.
For I am not defined by this world.
Attach a price tag to my body.
Tell me my worth.
I dare you.
Onachi Isiofia is a student; currently focusing on writing urban fantasy and dabbling in the world of poetry. She enjoys creating diverse characters reflective of the different faces in society. She despises anything superficial and loves any type of allegorical story.