Blame becomes a Drain.
The clouds up above in their puffy whites,
Darken as the sun shades into a rest.
There is a blame of the self,
There is a blame of the external,
There is a blame of the internal.
What value does tango begin
When waltz play?
To recenter emotions to undercover
What is sought after most is serenity,
A state of peace away from the shame,
Away from even the fame…
The world begins to open up
To a new story and place
When blame is planted into the soil
As a seed rather than an invasive weed.
