…and as the fool, the liar
yet only one of these titles are true
when dug down to the metal of my soul.
When the spade in my hands sparks on something
that can never go away once it is built in any of us
I see the label so carefully engraved after the dirt of the years has been brushed away. I excavate myself, my heart,
the shovel I use constructed out of words because sticks and stones were not strong enough to break these bones
to shatter the cage built around my heart
to shatter me so I can be rebuilt with dreams remembered.
I am a fool, and this marker I wear proudly and always have
because we are the ones who are honest
we are the lonely ones wise beyond our years
we are the ones who follow dreams at any cost. Every cost.
I know myself – or at least, I have and am trying again to remember who I am, was, will kill and die to be.