Mess

You say I’m a mess.

Maybe you’re right.

But you are too.

You can claw at me, pick me to pieces

Throw dirt in my face, bruise me with your words

Do what you have to in order to share the pain you are feeling

You take out your anger and bitterness on me

Blame me for what happened

Go ahead, despise me

Shut me out, never speak my name again

Act as if I never existed

If that makes you feel better

If that distracts you from your own truth

If that helps you forget that I left for a reason that included you

If that helps you to not have any blame to share

If that keeps the focus off of you

Then go ahead

Call me a mess

But at least I’m doing something about my mess and I own up to it

What are you doing about it besides blaming me?

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About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

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