VICTIM BLAME

how many times will they question me

"is that what you're going to wear?"

a body; to Them, that's me

purity: the liar

 

its all that i am; will ever be

if the cloth were ever to tear

cups droping: slipping Her tea

go His eyes: need to stare

 

soon shriveled down, i became Your weed

strangled and hidden, stole my air

the light: no longer to see

now You no longer care.

 

HE HURT HER! He hurt her, don't you see?

"the blame of course, still’s hers to share!"

now, she fakes that 'purity'

His hands still on her bare

 

"but what did she wear?"

what would YOU say

speechless, too.

VICTIM

BLAME