The accused
As of late this shit has been all consuming
Did I really have to take it this far?
He was wrong
But undoubtedly I may have been more wrong
I am now one apart of the sums of many
I never belonged before
And this project of fitting in is foreign in concept
And as insidious as sin
I dare to be a woman that I do not even know,
And have even less inclination to be associated with
The power
Did I do it all for the Power?
I did do it all for the power
Guarded and open concurrently
I chopped em’ all down like axes
Sharpened blades begging to behead
I am somehow the catalysts
Holding both life and death in the Palm of my grandmothers hands
And as I murder my subjects
They don’t even make a sound
In the mirror I see me blushing
-That my reflection even appears bemuses me still
And I wonder?
Would Christ even want me as I plead that I had to be avenged
The justified standing with the accused
Is it crazy?
Or am I?
I don’t have any answers
And I reckon that maybe he too needed something
And somehow my anger blinded me to see all of that
I was hurt
But surely he must have been also
And along lying there in a river full of other emotions,
Surely hurt and pain must’ve been among them
I wasn’t too generous
I never am when I am wounded
I inflicted pain, and then I sat there licking my own wounds
“Salty…”
And even now I have yet to realize that this accident is all scattered debris
From my reckless endangerment
Saying that “I love you”
But never really meaning it, because I was confused
Needing so much to fill that emptiness that when I am more than lucid
I swear doesn’t exists.
But I and God knows that it does
And maybe so does all of my innocent bystanders
Two brazen images, and I am born
And I can only image who I must be.
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