So many questions surround my churning mind,
asking for assurance that I can't provide;
if only somebody could salve my dread
with words that calm my throbbing head.
How did I get to the present state,
this stead far from my beginning place?
“The journey starts with a single step,
now gladly forgotten in amnesic bliss.”
Why do my memories blur to a dull gray
when I'm challenged to explain why I've strayed?
“It's best to not remember your past misdeeds,
the bane of those who strive to please.”
Who is responsible for what I've become,
a stranger to the ones that I once loved?
“You don't need the fake and corrupt,
the patent phonies that life deducts.”
Where did my high path become the low,
the wide road traveled by the hero's foes?
“Villains are the best of friends
to those who seek to grift and win.”
When did the truth become a commodity,
sold and bought outside of common honesty?
“Capitalism forgives all transgressions,
the disparities promoted by obscene successes.”
What can I do to find my way home again,
the safe abode where comfort met the pain?
“Those who wander are not lost;
instead, they strive to grab the most.”
The present has been fully justified
by the edits reshaping the pliant past;
all my questions have been addressed
by the voice assuring me it's for the best.
© 2026. Lynn Green. All Rights Reserved. 20260509.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 8:29 PM UTC
So many questions surround my churning mind,
asking for assurance that I can't provide;
if only somebody could salve my dread
with words that calm my throbbing head.
How did I get to the present state,
this stead far from my beginning place?
“The journey starts with a single step,
now gladly forgotten in amnesic bliss.”
Why do my memories blur to a dull gray
when I'm challenged to explain why I've strayed?
“It's best to not remember your past misdeeds,
the bane of those who strive to please.”
Who is responsible for what I've become,
a stranger to the ones that I once loved?
“You don't need the fake and corrupt,
the patent phonies that life deducts.”
Where did my high path become the low,
the wide road traveled by the hero's foes?
“Villains are the best of friends
to those who seek to grift and win.”
When did the truth become a commodity,
sold and bought outside of common honesty?
“Capitalism forgives all transgressions,
the disparities promoted by obscene successes.”
What can I do to find my way home again,
the safe abode where comfort met the pain?
“Those who wander are not lost;
instead, they strive to grab the most.”
The present has been fully justified
by the edits reshaping the pliant past;
all my questions have been addressed
by the voice assuring me it's for the best.
© 2026. Lynn Green. All Rights Reserved. 20260509.
Through a series of troubled questions and cynical rebuttals, the poem "Edit" illustrates how an individual’s history and morals are manipulated by an authoritative internal or external voice to justify a predatory present.
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