Sunday, August 6, 2017

Blame

Scribbling out the mischosen words
Caging the chosen birds
Sing to us your sweet melody
One that needs no redos, a true symphony

Perfection in your simple tune
Perfection in the craters on the moon
My scars are not quite so grand
My song is not something you can understand

From the ground to the sky
The voices that question why
Answers drift on the breeze
Offering nothing but a tease

Cards were dealt, cards we play
Blame the past for the mistakes of today
What is required, what we give
The choices we make, how we live

A simple tune so complex
Such little things creating ripple effects
Let no tears fall in the water
Cast in a lucky penny for no slaughter

I lost my voice in the fray
Turned a blind eye to feel okay
Plugged up my ears with a happy tune
Turned my mind away from the craters on the moon

And I scribbled out the truthful words
And caged once free-flying birds
And chose to hear only sweetness in their mourning song
 . . . I blame my hand - it was dealt all wrong

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