I Stand Alone

Image: Stocksnap @ Pixabay

I stand alone, though not by choice.
A wretched slave with withered voice. 
No doubt atoning for some sin,
Regrettably I ushered in. 

Unseemly words. A selfish act. 
Deeds that I could not take back. 
Alright, I’ve served the coward’s way,
And lived to bleed another day. 

Yet, is the core of me so dire,
That I deserve your constant ire?
Must the furore I have endured, 
Be unreservedly assured?  

It’s not as if I’ve rotten bones. 
I'm nice, much more than you suppose. 
I’ve lifted rocks for those I love. 
I’ve sacrificed. I’ve given blood. 

And while you claim I led astray
Some muddled souls along the way,
They came so willingly, like mules,  
Yet I’m the gull to take the fall. 

Of course, I don’t expect these pleas
To be heeded, not in the least. 
Your sort, who push us weaklings down,
Won’t cede and turn the mirror ‘round. 

Your flaws are simply waved aside
As mysteries, and never pride. 
What’s more, you hardly intervene,
Despite a history of screams. 

Is not your absence a dread crime?
Your traceless silence worse than mine?
To moor us here, so raw and prone,
And face the universe alone? 

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