I don’t want a beautiful artificial nose.
After expiration, the underneathers will make it a hose
For transporting their goods amidst blows,
And eventually turn it into food for those
Who can only live underneath and not close.
I don’t want alluring fake breasts.
After expiration, the underneathers will rudely massage and on it feast
Like the beast that they are after we lose the expired breath; pests,
To give them the sapped ones is my quest
I don’t want big fake buttocks that is a mountain and many find alluring.
Though it may make me feel like soaring
When the praises are pouring,
After expiration, it will give the underneathers more feasting and storing.
I don’t want to feast on juicy body building foods and fatly grow.
I cannot afford the thought of being served on a plate for days
To the underneathers after expiration while they enjoy in free flow
On their many ways.
I love to live in moderation,
Never seeking permission,
Being happy in my missions
Yet not giving the underneathers the pleasure of having the body they envision.
Call it whatever you want to call it, selfishness or greed, I call it choosing my fruition
To deprive the feaster a bouncy meal, because he or she or it will give me no commission.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia, ©Nov. 15, 2013.