When life becomes an incoherent mixture of regret and shame
And my self is nothing but lament tears in a mishapen mold
Who do I single out to coerce all the blame
I am a crowd of one, one that needs not be told
Of all the mistakes I made & lived through
Worst are those saturated to my very existence
Those that have me implore the throws of judgement
and then some more to scythe the remaining resistance
My shame comes in two-folds
Once as a tide that breaks the shore bare
followed by another filtering through cracks afresh
Till I am finally caught in the aftermath of the whole affair
I would like to believe I possess the strength to undo all wrong
Have my conscience bared like that of a newborns innocence
I would like to step out of myself for more than just a while
Maybe be given the chance to ridicule another’s ignorance
How do you stop the world from cringing so tight
Till it becomes nothing but the weight pressing upon your brow
How do acres of land & mass of men
turn into faces of me, spaces of me, how?
Has my narcissism bested the blessings bestowed for long?
Is it ungrateful, selfish, to want more than what was given?
Have I angered HIS divine ego?
Or have I yet to lay siege and give in?
And so I brood over misfortunes aplenty
Over things & people yet to be lost
Must be me if all is well and I fail to see
Must be me, must be me.