It Doesn’t Matter

Telling you how difficult it is to be embalmed
in a tomb before actual physical death changed
into an accusation against me, I accepted, what
else can I do

I shall toil in the tomb, embalmed in immobility
until my heart stops beating, you point me to the
kids but can’t you see the gift of childish delight
and wonderment

Have been taken from them, only self-sufficiency
and ice-cold reality are left, all fantasy gone, safe-
guarded against hurt by early disillusionment
in this cynical world

You want me to feel proud of what we did, bring
wonderful new beings into this world then cut
off their wings of imagination to create modern
kids - doing a job

With strong work ethos - oh, all right, it doesn’t
matter that my brain refuses to retain acronyms,
the disgust I feel for myself being unworthy will
kill me betimes

Before I grow old and infirm…