Sheathed in darkness, your tale dishonors
those you claim wandered through the shrouded night;
you speak your words with shrill-seeming honors,
yet words I know well lose their panicked might.
What story shields the well-oiled gears your mind
fit to dramatic memory with lies,
the speech uttered while you us tried to find
and glorified by you the tireless tries—
spoken like a savior, your well-versed tale
holds an adolescent sort of mad truth,
but repeated truths are to no avail
when weary wounds offer the truest proof.
Severe and well-worn, walk with me no more
to speak your bored tale ‘cross thin-lidded shore.
-Kaitlyn Medina [5/15/08]