A name follows you-
Even when you’re made anew.
Neither can you leave your face,
Or entirely forget your birthplace;
We must have done some misdeed,
In a past life, indeed,
Because we’re of a lower caste,
Doomed iconoclasts,
Fighting for nothing,
And eternally suffering.
And when we’ve had enough of it,
Enough of being misfits,
When we realize it was designed this way,
And that there is no “someday”,
Then we’ll venture six feet underground,
To tear a heaven down.