Artifact Poem by Richard Betts

Measure the hours
Spent with your head down,
Searching for yourself.

And every time
You uncover some
Lost, misplaced item -

And have the gall,
The temerity,
To hold your head high -

He comes along and
Buries your newly
Discovered artifact

Beneath mountains
Of insults and blame.
You succumb to his

Manipulation,
And no longer dare
Plow the earth looking

For some remnant of
Your past happiness.
Once in a while,

I notice you there,
Staring into the
Dirt looking for some

Lost memory of...

Yourself.