What A Face Can Buy
He bartered with nothing but jaw and skin—
a smile that undid everyone within.
I built my case for three months, stone by stone:
the data, the logic, the structure I alone
had constructed, argued, refined to hold.
What a face can buy, I couldn’t fold
into outcomes I couldn’t manufacture.
He bartered with nothing but jaw and skin—
a smile that undid everyone within.
I built my case for three months, stone by stone:
the data, the logic, the structure I alone
had constructed, argued, refined to hold.
What a face can buy, I couldn’t fold
into outcomes I couldn’t manufacture.
They softened when he entered. He walked out ahead.
What a face can buy, while reason fled
in favor of that shine,
the charisma, and none of it mine.
I’m not naive—I’ve circled this block enough
to know outcomes bend to more than just the stuff
of preparation, competent work.
But there’s a wound: watching looks smirk
their way past everything I’ve built from scratch.
What a face can buy, and it doesn’t match
what I made, what I earned, what I am.
Never fulfilled. Never once.