WE TELL OURSELVES STORIES
,

WE TELL OURSELVES STORIES

Once, out of his dreams it came to him

That the one missing was him -

No more a man than a woman

Is a child, willing to believe

In fairy tales. Beware of knights

In white, well-pressed shirts

Hanging in closests filled

With skeletons like him -

Telling themselves stories.

In order to live, you must believe

In monsters, hiding in the sheets

At night, sweating the small stuff;

The sleeping potion of fairy tales.

In the end, he’s just a frog.