VICTIMS ONGOING
//
this is how it goes --
growing up made,
developing as someone meant,
becoming who we always were to be.
these are the tags on our history.
and when we don't like the outcome,
we throw it under the bed, we stuff it in a closet,
hide it in a locked room, key-missing, door hidden,
we cover it, seal it, block it.
and around and around we go,
pretending like we don't really know --
we play the saint, we play the sinner,
we play the lover, and the other --
but our hearts reveal the darker,
unchanging fact beneath.
under the spinning tales,
we are not products of destiny,
nor forethought, nor invention,
nor creation, generation, intention.
we are
but simply at a glance,
ongoing victims
of circumstance.
-- and it goes.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts Lost & Winter Found
Poetrywhen you steal all that's evil and bury it underground: these are our ghosts lost and this is our winter found. collected poems from 2017 [ © 2017 by shaye ]
