There are a lot of ugly

Things I think

You’ll like to hear about,

But here is not

The time or place,

I’ve played it out

Already on the stage

Of years and silent shouts.

At other times

The words have come

From far beyond

The face I thought

I knew myself to be,

And deep within that well

I found eternities breeding.

Still now something says

To me, “We have this work

For you. Write these words

The way we say, don’t worry,

We’re all liars, we’ve

Got nothing new to

tell the troops today.”

I’ve come to grips with this

Uncouth attitude,

Though I wrestle with the

Moral implications,

Ostracization from the tribal groups.

Locked away by

My own kind.

Greatest fear,

I will be seen for the fraud

I can’t help but be

In their eyes.

But, that’s not for me

To fret about.

The work awaits.

I must oblige, duty bound.

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