Copy Rights.
What am I worth?
Am I worthless? No, no, look at the money I make, the things I
have, my friends. I have written poems, stories, and people buy
them. My words have worth, see, I am published, compensated for my
time, or else, how would I know it mattered?
Is my worth to be determined by others, by what they give my for my
indentured servitude? If I don't get something for what I do, why
do I do it?
I am not the master of my worth, I am not the judge of my soul, or my
existence. And you are not the judge of yours: I am. You had
better behave, please me, love me. Your worth depends on it, you
know.
Better be good, little kid, or no supper for you. Better make me
happy, little girl, or no dresses for you.
I give you love so that you will love me. I work so you will pay
me. I conform to the ritual of merit, I bow to the soul shackling
of what others value in me, as you will bow to my whims, with no worth
outside what I judge you to have.
Is my worth to be judged by what the world gives me?
No.
I shall judge me by what I give the world. I shall do it in
secret, if need be, to free my mind from this need for
ego-money-appreciation-love.
Have me, world. Have my thoughts. Have my dreams, my charity.
I am free from this ego prison. I am free from the price tag
on my life.
What are you worth?
UN-©
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From Millie: Henceforth, I shall not have a copyright on any personal
writings, nor on any code, graphics, or anything that I have the right
to share that is reproducible. Obviously, in doing so I will never
be published again unless I do it myself. It was a long time dream
of mine, this putting myself forth and judged worthy before the masses,
to be compensated and pawed over, envied, have my profundities available
to all, at a nice price. That is, until I realized what the price
of such a dream was. The price was me. No
thanks. I am not for sale.
millie |
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