They say you are not for me,
and I try, in my resolved but
barely turning brain,
to know “they” do not matter,
these relics of past disasters
in march against the rebellion
of our time.
They will fail;
as all the others have:
for our fate will not be this:
to smile and salute the pain,
to limp behind their steel boot
of happiness,
grieving for forbidden things.