I seem to have forgotten who I am
On the day I was born.
Stripped off of memories of the past
Bare naked till you clothed me.
So generously have you clothed me
In garments of fine silk
and jewels made out of colored stones.
Precious heirlooms chained around my bones,
So heavy around my bones.
Will I know me underneath the tapestry
Or hear the voice buried within?
Will I recognize my barest face
Without the masks of pretty paintings.
Will my Father find me when I'm lost
Beneath the rubbles of these dead things?
Will my Mother still hold her arms out,
to embrace me?
Will I learn my favorite colors
Or hear the laugh of innocence?
When there's a spark of thought
Do I cower in silence,
or risk dissidence?
And long after you're done with me
Will I discover my purpose here?
Would I even recognize me?
Covered in these dead things.
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