All I’ve Been Given

All I’ve been given
and insist that I’ve lost
is somewhere,
not in my pocket or closet
but I have it all, I’m sure.

It’s a process of 
elimination — none of it 
is anywhere I’d expect it to be,
nowhere obvious or easy to access,
so it must be in the dirty recesses

of a chamber or box
I don’t like to acknowledge.
Even the shiny things,
things I should be proud to have
and display, are down there,

inside that, hidden 
from me and all others;
whatever I am is in there
for good or bad, and here I am
unwilling to dig and dirty my nails

for everyone to see 
how much work it is 
to tell all my truth.
I protect us all by failing
myself, or so I like to claim.