The Theatre


They played
Their parts
These parts of me
Parts of me
That were not me
Yet, perhaps
They were.
These shadows
Shades of memory
Congealed with
Fear and repetition
Skeletons of shame
Solidified, strutted
Across the stage
Of me
But I
Have grown tired
Of theatrics
And of tricks
Of parts and pieces
Sewn and stitched
With threads of guilt
The quilt of the parts
Doesn’t warm
The heart
So, forgive me
If I do not applause
And yet,
Yet, the parts
They played
Their part
They kept me
In the play
Till life
Could take

The part

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