I thought you lied, but didn’t know right off.
All those fantastic tales of your great past;
I wondered at you, then began to scoff –
Each lie more ludicrous than was the last

I picture now your owlish. blinking eyes,
How lost you were at work before the axe
Came down; you, fired, much to your surprise
But no one else’s who beheld the facts

But I should have known better than I did
For all the signs were there for me to see
I should have recognized what those lies hid
That feeling of inferiority

Today, I heard by your own hand you’d died –
I silent stood in shame
And merely
Cried