Isn't it so true that the poetry we wrote as young kids is stunning, and we could spend the rest of our lives trying to recreate something of equivalent promise? I have poetry from the age 9 that perfectly describes the feeling of silence, where now I could write 10 lines stumbling over my words trying to capture the same effect.

Those were hard lessons to learn, I remember too, in that "playing the game" as they say someone always gets hurt, usually the person you don't want to hurt, very usually you yourself...painful.

I like this poem a lot. It winds through a maze, just like the experience it is based on probably wound up being like a maze, both linguistically (the confusion of selling vs telling, lies and secrets, the rhyme scheme) and in the style which deftly describes the chaos and confusion that was created in a manner that is clear yet leaves the impression of confusion. Keep writing and I will be sure to read other examples of your work.