Wasn’t It You?

Wasn’t it you who filled your arms with ammunition?
Getting the training so that you could shoot so well?
Wasn’t it you enlisting goblins in your army?
Gathering forces from the darkest side of hell.

Wasn’t it you who made confetti from my feelings?
Throwing the daggers and then laughing at my pain.
Wasn’t it you who was so clever with the riches?
Turning my earnings into what would be your gain.

I do believe the pots of gold that you have hidden
have lost their luster, now they’re simply pots of shame.
All of a sudden the old plot begins to thicken,
as you start losing the control in your own game.

Now you are feeling touch of anguish and confusion
as a result of having taken that last shot.
Wasn’t it you who planted seeds in a weed garden?
It is no wonder fruit now dies from trees that rot.

Let me speak clearly to avoid misunderstanding.
I found no pleasure when the shots went in reverse.
It wasn’t me, the one pulling the trigger.
It wasn’t me mixing the potions for the curse.

I believe life is to be lived with pure compassion.
But won’t play victim and accept the blame you cast.
For it was you who fostered all the hate you’re breeding.
For it is you who needs to bury deep the past.