My story is true in so far
as it is my story. The lines
I must maintain for my belief
to be justified are many.
I fear questions lest it all falls
like a child’s tower of blocks falls,
tumbled across unstable ground.
Although I know that the truth lies
for I formed each one on my own,
turning them over and over
like rosary beads until smooth,
they still allow me to believe
each stone lies firmly on the next.
With no one to doubt what I say,
the facade I have built is real
I explain to myself myself:
I live forms of happies
As long as the ever after,
and the hero is always me.
(June 30, 2019)
