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I was born in a city
I was born in a city
That made it easy to tell others I was born in a different city.
I was born to parents
Who made it easy to speculate what parents were,
I just couldn’t say for certain.
And I know about orphans;
They want a justification,
Not a family.
And justifications,
They are not about meaning,
They are about surviving without it.
And I know about without it,
It is about overcompensation.
And I know overcompensation to be something like suicide,
Just without the bravery.
And I know the bravery to be a front,
Something like the tears of a mother,
Who cries only to shield.
Who shields her faults,
Not those she promises to shield.
And I know people who run to the comfort of logic,
Just so that they can say their idiocy,
It really was logical.
And I know the logical to repeat many words,
And to think of none themselves.
I know themselves to be as arrogant as the ignorant.
And I know the ignorant to be professors,
They profess and profess,
Hoping to distract us
From the swollen wombs
Which may give birth to something
We would call life.
