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Somewhatdamaged Jan 2020
Its easier to blame others
For your own mistakes
Its even easier to blend in
When something higher is at stakes
But what you believe in
Are you sure you aren't making fool out of yourselves?
annh May 2020
If you place me on a pedestal,
I can’t help but disappoint you;
For no one is infallible,
No one survives unbroken,
No one remains unchanged.

When it all turns to custard,
Who do you blame?
Me for letting you down,
Or yourself for doing the same,
By expecting too much of me.
To shamelessly paraphrase Yotam Ottolenghi: ‘I am inordinately fond of pedestals...and...custard in any shape or form.’
Grey Dec 2019
It’s your fault.
Three soft sounds, and yet I cower behind my delusions as they make themselves heard.
It’s your fault.
The words crash around my mind, shattering the translucent lies keeping me sane.
It’s your fault.
They tear through my life, upending my dreams and hollowing out my soul.
It’s your fault.
After enduring so much, all it took were three simple words to break me.
Even if someone drills those words into your mind again and again, don't give up. Stay strong. You didn't do anything wrong. Remember that.
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
Not
It was not her.
//
When she saw me hurting,
she knew it was not her.
//
When she saw me sobbing,
it was not her.
//
When she saw me choking on my breath,
//
when she saw me shaking in shock,
//
when she saw me screaming for an escape,
//
it was not her.
//
I cowered in my skin
and it was not her.
//
And when I was dying,
it was not her,
for once.
//
I stole away from her
her hands
and her broken rage,
//
her sorrow and terror,
her unwavering pain,
//
so that
for once,
she would
not
have to
hurt again.
//
I was so kind,
so for once,
//
it was not her.
Grey Dec 2019
It wasn’t her fault
The sun didn’t rise
In my world
Today.

It wasn’t his fault
That I watched
Her hair create a halo
Around the head of an angel
As she fell.

It wasn’t their fault
That hand in hand,
They left this world
Hoping
The next one
Would be better.
A different version of Hand in Hand.
jocelynn Dec 2019
It must've been that odd mushroom:
Its pungent spewed spores have made me
A fungal all-fours beast of gloom.

It couldn't have been my own brain:
So toxic, rotten, and seeping
Out meanness, spreading all the same.

Infected, that's why I'm absolved
From sinful guilty reflections,
It was them, not me, that mushroom.
Cordyceps are small yellow fungi that infect insects and other fungi, turning them into mindless zombies that spread the infection until it eats its host.
Kylee Dec 2019
The blame started with eve

And hasn’t left since

Why do you insist

On hating us?
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