THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 68


Those Goths
were the same Goths
who ridiculed me,
although I never spoke a word about God,
Buddha, Allah, Zeus,
or any god-like figure.
They don’t like me
because I’m silent,
so they’ll do anything
to get me to open my mouth.
I nodded my head “yes,”
I shook my head “no,”
but most of the time,
I shrugged my shoulders: “I don’t know,”
and they stared into me
with makeup-rimmed eyes,
trying to determine
what kind of soul I have
if I have a soul at all.
Maybe I’d have to speak
to gain a soul.

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