The Blame Game
It was your turn first to play the blame game and you span the spinner,
Spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning past all the colours of our rainbow
and it landed on me.
I couldn't stop you and it wasn't fair and in the end was it my entire fault?
You told me I should have done something or said something or …
You give up and pass the spinner
enjoying the roll of the blame as it leaves a sour taste in your mouths
passing the spinner on.
The blame game is a ritual because nobody is strong,
nobody can hold the burden that the blame holds
heavy on weak shoulders
and poison against soft skin.
Again and again and again the spinner is passed.
Father, Sister, Brother, Mother, Lover…
Friend? Is that me? Am I still your friend?
Even though I couldn't stop you or save you and the others spurn me like toxic smoke.
Worming my way into the cracks that you created and I fill up.
Should I spin the spinner now?
This time it will fall on me. Even I can