I was looking in the rearveiw.

Down the lens of distant past.

I cringed at us. Oh, nothing new.

This forgiveness has to last.

Oh yes, there was some trauma.

Caused by no one else but me.

I guessed the world a stage a drama.

And all those actors! So why not me?

Somehow, now I’ve grown quiet.

I just scream now when I write.

No more laughter at the riot.

In my dreams, I’m out of sight.