I cannot change the past, but hope to find Some solace in alternative facts which Alter what happened, but the truth will bind Itself to me like a constrictor stitch Too tight around the open wound, the pain Forever constant with a heart-beat, each Time blood caresses artery and vein, The life it gives me will my truth impeach, Citing each lie I would promote, to change The bias of eternity, despise My patent falsehoods, but to re-arrange The shape of something will not form devise, When the essential matter is the same, And truth still is true, falsehood false to blame.