I am not so changed.
What have you (the Tower) really done?
You have blasted away the trappings
from my former life.
The shell I put on to mimic the world I was in.

But you have done little to the center of me.
The hammer forged core of me.
Metal so hard and dense
from the pounding of youth
that not even you (the Tower) can mar it.

I am naked
when I am bare metal.
So I glue to myself common scraps
from the images I am around.

A chameleon mockery of the world I am in.

It is not real.
No more then a laughing harlequin doll.
A poor illusion.
A ragged veil that I hid behind.



By Suli Marr