You can’t trust
that you truly know anything
when you only know what others tell you
and your senses just bring you particles
to be rearranged and interpreted
based on what others have told you.
So you strip it all away
and go sit on a beach
in a different stolen shell,
but with no pretense this time.
Everyone knows the story
of how you’ll just discard this one
once you’ve outgrown it
and you’ll find another one
and you’ll keep repeating the cycle
until you’re consumed
or stepped on
or broken. There’s no such thing
as a death by anything other
than natural causes in this life.
If you’re lucky
you’ll get picked up
and tossed in a case
and provided with painted shells
while people chuckle at the googly eyes
and the stripes you’ve been provided.
It may look sad from out there
beyond the glass,
but you, you sneaky little machine
of outward deceit and self-awareness,
you’re delighted to be amusing them
without having to pretend
that’s what you really are at heart.