(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

An Impossible Task

The only ones to become disappointed,
Over how others have lived their lives...
Are those who had lied to create,
Delusions to tell that were never true.
To have what others did to do,
Found and discovered to not have been done.
To leave the ones becoming disappointed,
Scrutinized by those believing such lies...
Doing the best they can to eliminate their criticisms,
From those they character assassinated with shame.
To lay the blame on those they 'now' claim...
As living their lives trying to hide from facts.
Facts those who lied but did not realize existed.

'We had no idea such facts existed.
And we apologize for our ignorance.'

What is it you expect from me?
A pretending of an understanding?
Or rejecting the proof,
That 'my' reality has never been genuine? ~

'Is it possible?
That would for us be a relief.
You see...
Those of us who believed those lies told on you,
Feel we now are the fools.
And having those feelings felt so personal,
Is not a comfort most of us are accustomed to.'

But I am, right?
IF you knew 'anything' at all about me,
You would have known I am not a magician.
Attempts to undo your stupidity,
Would be an impossible task.
And 'that' I know not to take personal.
Even though, in numbers,
You are better represented.~

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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