My face
Belies
So many
Lives
Lived.

My eyes
Redirect
Inquisitive glances
Of
Homeric
Tears
Shed.

My clothes
Disguise
The livid
Scars
Of inescapable
Encounters.

Querying
My being
Is futile.

I am an
Anachronistic diversion
Subject to derision.

And where I find
My strength
Is a mystery.
The rest
I gladly
Consign
To history.