You don’t know
How dour it is
To atone
Without any
Reason

Like my crucified
Childhood heroes
Who somehow
I slowly
Became –

These vestiges
Buried in thought
Building layers
Housed
Along bookshelves

Where memories
Stacked
Between covers
Are toys which fell
Over time.

They laugh at what’s
Being expressed
By this man
Behind
Shitty poems,

Not knowing
His life
Is a kid’s show
On analog screens
During sleep –

Never seen
But mocked
All the same
For those out there
Even watching

Since characters
Lost
Feeling youthful
Remain that truth
He believes,

Only swearing
Innocence fades
If accepting
Dreams
Are just different

Still writing
But feared
As ridiculous
When readers
Reset every game.

• J. Pigno