Crushed by the weight of blame,
gravity becomes an enemy;
Guilt seeps through the cracks of torture;
Confusion of the wrongfully accused.
Tried and failed;
The jury too clueless to rule in favor.
A form of torture, this becomes,
questions now allegations
creating a fire that burns from the inside out.
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Tell me it’s not my fault
I feel like I’ve fallen down three flights of stairs,
bounced my head off concrete,
swallowed gasoline,
and blew myself up from the inside.
Tell me the pain
of living unwanted
in a world full of desire
isn’t my accountability.
Tell me I’m not to blame
for the bleeding of my heart
and the leaking of my brain.
Convince me I’m not the cause,
because it all feels like my liability.
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Too many give but never take,
its justification relies too heavily
on the eyes of the beholder. Too
many choose their side for the
cause. Blame is a faulty word.
Marysa Writes 