METANOIA; poetry.

thirteen

I used to blame you,

but now I only blame myself.

I was the one who let

you

in;

I was the one who let

you

ruined me;

I was the one who let

you

affect me;

Now I only blame myself

for being so naïve

and trusting

you

when you stare at me with

those shiny and pretty pearls;

for thinking that

you

were good

enough;

for not stopping

you

from slowly tearing me apart;

for loving

you

when you warned me

about your

rock-paper-scissors'

game.