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Who locked the door on me,

Who took away my sun.

Who found a way to steal…

All that I thought I had become?

Who made my world go dark

Who holds that smoking gun

Who is the one to blame…


I guess I’m the only one.

32 thoughts on “Guilty

  1. I know this place…

    and when you’re there, a world that absolutely does not want you to blame your pain on any of its truths will insist on all the ways it is your fault

    for grabbing the ugly truths of your life and still being the most beautifully ugly version of yourself that anyone could ever be, even in the worst of light.

    But as scary and ugly as it feels sometimes, the beauty will insist on being seen. Even here. Even now. Always the part of you that speaks her way through.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Do what, exactly?
      I think you may read it differently than I may have meant it (seeing as the poem is about being the only one responsible for mucking up my own life πŸ˜‰ )


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