#scapegoat
my parents dont love me.
i was an accident.
a mistake.
concieved while they were drunk.
they love my siblings
all of them planned, beautiful, and smart
they could never do anything wrong.
in my parents' eyes.
maybe it's because they weren't prepared
for a second kid.
as they were the first,
third, fourth and fifth.
but not the second.
maybe it's my fault.
after all everything i do is wrong.
i cleaned it wrong.
i made it wrong.
i said it wrong.
and everything i do is bad.
my grades are bad.
my height is bad.
my hearing's bad.
maybe its because
they don't want a broken child.
depression. anxiety. autism.
SI. SH.
who could be more broken
compared to the others?
maybe they were relieved
when i was born half dead
did they really want me here?
maybe they did.
so they could have a scapegoat.
or an example of how not to do things.
or an example of stupid.
My parents don't love me
and they never will.
I'll always be an obligation
and a financial burden.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 10:57 PM UTC
Mother, I spread my arms for you
as the nails beat into the flesh of my wrists
and the wood stings the skin of my back
I look up at the skies and pray that it rains
so that your garden will grow at last
and bear fruit that you'll want to share with me
but I'll be gone far too fast
Father, I raise my eyes for you
so that I'll see if there's tears when you cry
The phone will be answered for all but for me
and my sisters and my brothers will be free
No more time at the window, because we knew what to expect
no more times calling your name when locked out of the nest
So wear a cross or a ring maybe my name to mark
do not forget I was here
Sisters, I'll raise my chest for you
as I breathe in and out for as long as I can
until it becomes heavy with a weight I cannot bear
and my spirit shoots up into dusk
You held my hands as I first took steps
but clawed at my scars when we were on other ends of the battlefield
we were what we were raised to be,
and I love you forever til my rest
Brothers, I'll hold my face to yours
as my blood starts to run thin
Nose to nose you'll see we aren't that different
as you once thought
Fingers crossed that you'll reach the steps
you've prayed to reach a thousand times
and I hope that my blood will hit the earth
so that the sacrifice will be mine
Friends, wherever you were when the time had come
I will always hold my peace
for you were my stable when it thundered
and my flower for deaths the reaper will keep
In a circle we will rise, in a cycle we'll never leave
I hope that I'll meet you in my next life
otherwise I'll forever be near, hold your peace
My tears that I cry are for the gods that held me
and I not knowing their presence held fast
For regret that I will not stay too long
but relief as freedom will last
My heart will beat just one more time
for the people of this world
I hope that you will not cross the line
when the war goes on still
I'll give up all my lives if it means that you all will be safe
underneath the willow tree
we were all birthed under that place,
for our will to choose will be always free
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
The goat, it ran
With all its might
To escape bearing the blame.
The goat, it ran
Far out of sight
Until it bore great pain.
The goat had thought
It escaped flood
With the cover of night’s veil,
But then, the goat had realized
Blood
Was dripping from his tail.
Oct 6, 2024
Oct 6, 2024 at 8:39 PM UTC
He was a soul
crafted by Jupiter:
limitless,
wild,
and always
searching.
I am a soul
crafted by Mars:
driven,
unforgiving,
and unyielding.
When you shunned him
for discovering
our existence
our meaning
our joys
our sorrows,
I watched
for years
and years,
a fire inside
my blazing chest.
Now, I hold the scythe
in my hand,
untouched by the flames.
I hold your fate in my hands
and watch the flames
consume you
as you await your retribution.
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 12:34 AM UTC
ever been a ***** or a ******
i have. and other names
mostly given.
ever been a scapegoat?
i have. been a toy
to the hatfields and the mccoys.
any ink of brain leakage
taken to the sawbone
stitches over stitches
on my lips sewn by my own hands
the sands of time have passed, slow
as they can fall --
blood from rips goes on the walls
smear memories on the old ****
to make a little sense of the prison
in which i was living
make a little bit of sense of my enemies
apparently, i choose to ride the prisms
of a prison to the coffin, as i'm better use dead
but what kind of exit is a bullet to the head?
tell you, it's a mess, what it is
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
कागले छेरेको विउबाट
उम्रिएको रुख हो त्यो
अमिलो फल फल्ने
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 7:26 AM UTC
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank
key teachers approximately
42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
when the need to access
and retrieve
immediate necessary information
analogously interleaved
among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
as hopelessly lost
into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember
any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
and/or prose tempted to quit
asper defeated by resignation,
and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden
black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
(while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
flowered gloriously invoking nest
head treasured mother lode
of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
formerly figuratively barricaded facts
suddenly at my behest
ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure
forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay,
when into scaly claws, sans first
to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner,
or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably the majority
of elementary grades didst accord
accredited ancient authenticated creatures bored
(with exception of sixth)
freely exercised diabolical chord
churlish ******** animalistic
zealous yakking, wickedly,
aye (a basket case) deplored
unprintable (epithets) this then
(unprincipled urchin) puny pupil felt lord
did over whacked, sans receiving end,
viz fiendishly gruesome
hellish instructions mean teacher scored.
Assignments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period earlier
in the dawning primate consciousness.
Lesson material kindled justifiable license
in league garnered insignia heft brought pupils
to heal predicated, via warped weft woven
wonderfully wrought writs welcomed whips
with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian
refused respecting reptilian rubric representative
saber rattling, where...
(The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver
of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will
Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do),
which loosely rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom
granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish
insignia certified one beaming Eve and/or
stud deed brute soffit.
Education often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to or from Aunt Emma to this Jack,
oh napeswho never wrote back
sheesh, alas and alack.
Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning
torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps
of pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound
antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating
sing-song quintessential precepts.
adieu:
math a hew
scott harris a gentile Jew
all ways felt like new
kid on the block isolated
in his hermetically sealed queue
pay perm ash shay watched per view
whew
at last in conk clew shun to you
from one primate within the human zoo.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
She died drowning
Just to blame the sea
Here, I’m the witness.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
I tried to be,
“AND”,
What connects.
She choose to be
“BUT”,
What clauses.
Then,
Nothing mattered.
In unison
We pointed destiny,
A Scapegoat.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
A common character
With an innocent curiosity
Noble sentiment
A pleasure of simplicity
Little freedom
Having a reasoning palsy
Consolidated ideas
Avoiding a social trial
Blind despair
Multiplied hope by zero
Being a scapegoat
Borrowing all help from poetry
Let the science be human
Nothing is more free than the imagination
Concerning human understanding
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
You
Shame me, blame me humiliate me and lie.
Compare me, threaten me, defame me and ignore my cries.
My life played like a toy, controlled and molded as it's twisted
and pried.
You
Charm them, ****** them and shape them with veiled ascendancy.
The manipulated, the puppets, the pawns; the recruited proxy.
Their life played like a toy, to dance and to sing to the captivating sounds of a deluded melody.
They
Become your enablers, the abusers, the bullies; your silhouettes.
Your servants, your minions, your marionettes.
Forever blindly clutched on a page of your novelette.
I
Am no longer a victim, desiring love from my family.
I am now enlightened and empowered, free from your chains.
I gained awareness, my strength and my sanity.
Now you play in silence with your bitter scapegoat games.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
We are our own scapegoats, fate is simply numbers and empty space. Love is a chemical, heartbreak is excess chemicals. The will to live, is only bullheaded stubbornness.
And it just so happens that the things that we fear are also the things that we love, and people are caused more pain by the things closest to them. I am the one that she loved, and I am the one that she hates.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
Before the beginning,
Man said, "This is a world to conquer."
Hence, Man released his word
and it was a resounding,
"I will."
A bright shining beacon
separated the darkness.
This was how it began.
The next day, Man separated
high-minded thoughts from base desires
and called one educated and planned,
the other, trivial and crass,
and made one above the other in ranks.
Morning and evening passed.
On the third day, the desires were gathered
and separated into virtues and vices.
Each had seeds abundant with
the reapings of their own rewards and consequences.
All was good but the darkness and light
were stark. So on the fourth day
Man said, "I will give the darkness flecks of light
and the light covers of darkness
so that everything will have shadows
and shades to cover themselves upon."
And Man saw all was as he pleased.
Then Man pronounced, "I will fill
the virtues and vices with every sort of thing
to feed on according to their kind.
They shall be fruitful and multiply and they shall
swarm and crawl and fly according to their own kind.
They shall become beasts and livestock which
plot and prey on each other according to their own kind."
And so it was on the fifth day.
When Man saw how everything
was as he made it to be,
Man said, "I shall make a god in my own image, he will
be as I proclaim and
be the bearer of my creation. He will be for me
a cause to have dominion over all."
And so on the sixth day,
Man created a god in his own image
to subdue everything. He said to him, "Now, you will
grant me permission to do as I have always done and
in your name, claim glory."
On the seventh day, Man saw all was absolved
and done according to his will.
Man rested and let the name of god
carry the load.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
i'm tired of being everyone's punching bag
learning to defend against the left jab
can almost predict the back stab
my tyrant boss so incompetent
unable to lead
peers who feel the need
to boast of themselves
voracious egos to feed
as i receive a mere stipend
for my efforts sweat and bleed
i'm bailing from this race
far from your lecherous reach
i stashed away a nest egg
built a fishing hut on the beach
there with my marked comrades remain
away from your weakness and condescension
we will all have our day
when you are called to account for
your sins
beyond mention
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
I am your scapegoat
deconstruct your rivalries
you love to hate me
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC