What is it about humans
That blames all but their own faults?
Seeking hidden lies in others and not the truths in ourselves.
Aren't we supposed to be whittled down under oath?
Exposed, remade.
Why are we blowing out other candles so ours can have a slower time to melt?
It's like we're just avoiding,
Borrowing what we think is unused time.
Everything borrowed was once touched.
And blame,
It's too raw.
It cannot be brushed with gentle hands, but rather gripped with burning rage.
Blame is our necessity, a source of fight.
And still our own fault finds a way to wither without a light shining upon its forgotten surface.
To ride up on the edge of our collars.
We think throwing words like frisbees will get a bite,
It doesn't always.
Only faults can be outmatched to blame
But then why do we keep searching for ways to pin each other down?
Taking hurt or anger and pinching the fabric until it fits right to the understanding in out heads,
That only our feelings should be spared.
Only our opinions matter.
Look around
If you're so important
Why does everyone else feel like crumbling when they take a chance at you?
Your existence is only a coarse reminder that
no one
should face fault alone.
Now
How's that for feeling inconsequential?
-s.l.
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RandomThis is a small and selective collection of wonderful sentences that I feel stand beautifully on there own. Also short poems, or anything that pops into my head, really. Also featuring works of my favorite authors. I feel the world gives us a lot to...
