Kaleidoscopes

Those before you wanted to tell my story for me,

interpret my words as puzzles

making sense from single pieces separated from the box.

They never saw the full picture,

cast it aside as I handed it to them

trying to make the understanding easier.

They wanted simple rainbow arches where I mixed colors in kaleidoscopes.

They assumed patterns, formed accusations from words never spoken, never thought.

They believed their fantasies over testimony from my own mouth,

and I hope the reality of me eats them alive,

that they witness my decisions from afar

the way I live up to the promises they never heard through static-brained avoidance

as we have everything they refused to accept I wanted.