Would she use the playground argument;
'But I was here first?'
To which I would respond;
'That is irrelevant darling,
It comes down to survival of the fittest,
Natural selection.
If you're not strong to fight,
Then scamper and flee.

But guilt is overwhelming,
The water that I tread is deep,
The waves boil, burns and I blister,
How much longer can I keep up this charade and false pretence?
If she were to confront me,
What could I say to her?
What could I really honestly say to her?

I stumble and trip over the same mistakes repeatedly,
One day I will fall,
With my face in the dirt,
I will crumble beneath my unlearned lessons,
I will shatter underneath the strain,
Who would I have to blame for that?

In my eyes, she is the one in the wrong,
But I am the criminal,
I am the one who wears the orange jumpsuit,
I am the one who is bound by handcuffs,
I am the one confined to this cell,
I am not in possession of the key,
I could take it- even though it is not mine,
I am used to that, after all.

Yet there are cracks in my performance,
I am destroying the programme and order of things,
I sneak a glance through the curtain from time to time,
Revealing the part of the plot,
As the audience puts the puzzle pieces together.
The curtain will rise soon,
The harsh glow of the stage lights will expose everything and everyone in the way that it should be,
Then choices will have to be made.

Until then,
I will keep my head above water,
But only just.
Eventually I will drown,
Meeting my fate like an old acquaintance,
One I had been expecting to visit.
I will fall prisoner to all of my mistakes,
We all give into our inner weaknesses,
Some more than most.
When I run out of people to point the finger at,
I am the only one left to blame for this.