The Guilty Blame the Damaged.

     I find myself torn between spilling my thoughts online - cryptic, but open - with my name attatched to condemn me, or holding it all in to myself. Which is more appealing to me? Expression? Knowing that even so, no one will hear? Or waiting to see who comes looking for what I haven't told?

     I've waited a really long time to say everything I've been screaming this past week. When I look online, it amuses me to see that everyone comments on my happy posts - facebook - where the tired facade of optimism draws in readers like flies - and they ignore the truer posts completely. The truth, though people claim to crave it, takes no more priority in their lives than does a speck of dust in a stranger's house. What do they care of our blemishes? Of mine?
     I open my mouth countless times each and every day, hinting at what half of me wants everyone to know, and half of me would kill to hide. Cognitive dissonance. Like two keys on a piano who's tones don't match.
Dissonance.
     In my family, there is an abundance. An abundance I disassociate myself from, as they disassociated themselves from me so many times when I could have used their presence. Some of my family? They're snakes. They know who they are, and yet sit reassuring themselves that I am the one to blame for whatever gap between us is yet left unbridged. Unbridged, even after I gave chances they didn't earn. Unbridged, even after, once again, they ran from whatever truth I tried to give them, and hid with their tails fixed firmly between their legs. But this is not their fault, in their eyes. They see what they want to see. The fault is mine.
The guilty blame the damaged.
     -Enjoy.

The Guilty
Why not use a mirror?
Title what you see as such.
Is that not poetry and condemnation enough?