Broken
My bag's zip is broken,
and when I bring it to the tailor,
she says it can't be fixed,
"There's no fixing this zipper,
you're better off just buying a new bag
with a brand new zipper."
An orchestra of alarm goes off
in my head, and all around me,
the nation is feeling this heat,
but no matter really,
no zip is needed for my bag really,
what little truth it holds will not spill,
truth is shrinking,
it's shrinking.
And so I walk around with my bag,
its zip broken, mouth gaping,
a lot of space inside, some books,
a lot of air, but not a lot of truth,
and all around me the alarming
orchestra of lies.
