Historical Burden Refiled as Realism

A clerk found a tear in the form,
And called it a procedural norm.
“It’s realism now,
Don’t furrow your brow,
Just stamp it to weather the storm.”

The burden was heavy to hold,
But changing the label was bold.
We praised how they stood,
As much as they could,
While doing exactly as told.

A continuity error was caught,
And sold as a lesson well-taught.
The injury stays,
Reframed as a phase,
A permanence no one had bought.

To argue against the old flaw,
Is now a clear breach of the law.
We manage the weight,
And call the load great,
Ignoring the splintered old draw.

The ledger will never confess,
That realism started as mess.
We file it away,
And quietly pray,
The paper absorbs the distress.