When they say it was her fault,
They mean it like when you lock your keys in the car,
Or when you sleep through an important meeting,
Or when you forget the birthday of someone close.
Like a simple mistake of HERS could somehow explain what HE did.

They say it like they can understand it,
But she should have known better.
She should have checked her pockets for the keys, and set another alarm, checked the calendar one more time.
Like maybe then she wouldn’t have been there, maybe then she wouldn’t have seemed like she wanted it, maybe then he would have stopped.

But they, those people who NEVER lock their keys in the car, or sleep through an alarm,
They’ve never been on the other end of the phone.
You don’t need to see the tears
Because you can all but hear them strike the ground,
And you don’t need to see her face
Because no Greek chorus could ever portray fear the way breathless sobs do.
They’ve never had to say “It’s going to be okay”
Knowing full well it won’t.
That it may never be.
And they’ve never felt the type of hatred
That only comes from one thing:
Knowing, somehow, deep in your heart
That you would **** to stop this
From ever happening again.
Die, if it meant
That it wouldn’t have happened to her.

They sit back and blame,
Like they’re too afraid
Of what it would mean if it wasn’t
Some flaw in her that caused this,
But a flaw in him,
Maybe a flaw in themselves.

But if they knew what it was like
To be holding her
In arms that can’t possibly
Say safety enough
To make her believe it, again,
Wanting her world to be beautiful,
Like it was before.
Searching for words
Something, anything, to say.
Finding nothing.
If they knew what that silence was like,
They’d be silent now.