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.

~R

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