never again wearing the same shoes, thoughts or smile.
The clay shapers will mold another figure, thinner, weaker
With re-formatted database, my memory sense will falter
feed me implanted lies of the consensus, a replacement
childhood, substitute story of a life never lived, imagined.
The words that will cut and shave, clip and trim, make me
appear like the tale of an other who skinned another ideal.
And there will be no return to the sanity of reality, no truth.