I’ve been told

Bury your tragedies

In the pit of your stomach

With the sharp pains of shame  

That ripple through your mind

–

I’ve been told a man’s soul   

Never swarms with worry,

He bears weight of the world  

As it grinds him into dust

–

I’ve been sold small morsels

Of  the  rearranged past

The flawed memories of saints,

Shopkeepers and statesmen

–

I’ve been sold in their scheme

Stripped down and reassembled  

All to play a brief part

In their strange reverie