i laid all these hopes on you,
if not every single one,
in yet another hope that you
would be able to fulfill the
duties I delegated to you,
personally, in my mind;
it never came across to me
as a possibility, that
i couldn't force you to do
anything more than...
i couldn't force you to do
anything at all.
And when you didn't,
just like no one else ever
did do, I wrote poems
like this one; they don't
work too well.
I can't blame you for
being a normal, somewhat
conventional being in
conformity with parts of
our noble society;
and I don't deny that it
bothers me a hell of a lot,
but there's no outward
blaming. i point my thumb
at myself since that's the
only right (wrong) i'm
entitled to.
I still think about you.
I'm responsible for just
about everything I've done
to myself,
but I'm not like this on
my own;
I just keep wishing you
could find the time to help.