there was a time
a while back
when I once felt
I could get on track.
I've always been different
(though I fear that's understated)
through things that I lack
as much as gifts illustrated.
it seemed, at that time
the whole world could be mine
or, of course, just my own
little piece.
but I've had little peace
in my life for some years
as my own inner fears
were made manifest.
now it seems that, at best,
I'm left with
table scraps.
This thought is,
but of course,
just a trap.
Well, I can't turn back time
try again and rewind,
I must accept this mind
as it is.
what I thought, long ago,
would be my domain
is now damaged ego,
hurting body,
sick brain.
I can't claim what wasn't,
that's a sure path to misery.
I can't claim what doesn't
really suit my true history.
So I give it the boot,
write myself
little requiem,
readjust, recompute,
try again.

Garbage that was in,

Now garbage out.

Garbage collected,

Routine complete.