Tell us our history,
so we don't know our past.
Time yields confusion,
confused by the last.

The boy is learned,
The girl is adverted,
The children are skirted,
While truth is converted.

We love the children,
We learn from the boy,
We burn for the girl,
and run from the fact.

Truth becomes fiction;
a translated diction.

We can never go back,
Trace time or retract.