Same old

you know, you never change
same lines, same lies
same victimhood.

you’ve always palayed the victim to perfection
standing ovations, raging applause
like bloodstains in your wake

Oh, grow if you can
change. Learn.
But all the evolution looses value
when repeating the mistake
like a musician with twenty
billboard hits –
with the same chorus.

Poor you, what an innocent
fragrant, delicate thing
with claws and teeth hidden but waiting
between a demure surface.

It’s amazing how freeing the world can seem
when no longer bound to the rules of an
unfair game and
twisted ruler.

The queen of hearts who
posesses none of her own.
You can sway your hips, and smile that smile
and flirt all you want

in the end, all you’ll be is alone,
conquerer of your own kingdom
who killed all her subjects for
imagined faults and
crimes for which only she committed.

I guess you are the victim, after all
but not of the countless multitudes that have
lost your interest or
were found wanting –
you’re a victim of your own choosing,
your own pride, your own selfishness.

For that the blame lies with you
and always will.
You can never fix yourself until you
admit you’re broken.

Ironic, isn’t it?