~
What should I do after the typhoon of reality crashes over me?
Ask hopeless questions like I always do like?
Why does the broken mirror still reflect that ugly girl?
When will the sea of mistrust dry up?
When will the sun set it’s last on islands of doubt?
Why are personal secrets so accessible?
Why am I able to buy secrets like they no more than items belonging to lonely merchants.
Why are we told to cover wounds caused by harpoons that were fashioned by horrific memories?
Why must we be forced to sit in the cavern silence?
Why is the lullaby of a hurricane more forgiving than a false apology?
Do I need an interpreter to spell out what you’ve done wrong?
Now I dare you to tell me it wasn’t your fault.

All of this.

The ringing of those words still pierce these walls.
Would you believe it if I said we all remember, even when alcohol blurs your memory of what you did?
When these terrible flashbacks refuse to fade will you still tell me it isn’t your fault?
The wail of a shattered life is louder than your sickening lies.
Now, tell me it’s not your fault.

All of this.

The tension in the air still lingers four years later.
You have been exposed for what you’ve always been.
Now, stop trying to control us.
Like an albatross flying over a raging sea, I raise a white flag.
I've lost again.
We'll gladly pack up and leave.
Now, try and tell me as you sit alone not regretting a thing,
Now, tell me it’s not your fault.

All of this.
~