Not For Sale (An Original Poem)

There is just so much to run from

In this crazy world of ours

And you ask 

"Why don't you fight some?"

And I say

"I pick my battles like flow'rs

and make a grand bouquet 

of scars I've had 

and bruises bad

enough to make you grimace.

It's called My Soul

It's worn and torn 

Like a garment centuries old

Do cast your lots 

But I am Not

Ever To Be Sold."

*Note: I almost changed the word "grimace" when I realized I was kind of rhyming, but I decided to keep it. In a way it is saying, "If I were to show you my scars and bruises, you would react in a way you yourself would not have expected to."