THE HOLLOW APOLOGY
i cannot say i'm sorry,
for i don't know what i did.
i only know i was discarded,
and i am left to live with it.
i guess i'm just the evidence
that something was bound to bust;
but what ever the constraint was
it wasn't because of my trust.
i just stepped into something
that i didn't even know existed
until i was blamed for stepping in it,
so something in my own life twisted.
and still i cannot say a word;
it's a trickery like i've never seen.
for if i do it only makes me appear
as the person i was made out to be.
somehow a jealousy was the setup,
the very thing that i was not.
i encouraged everyone to be their best selves;
it was the only thing i thought.
whatever was forced was forced upon me,
and there is nothing i can do.
i guess the others can think what they want,
but for me, it still isn't true.
i was just handed a penance of forever
in having to lose my friend
by having unwittingly discovered
that someone else was factored in.
but i'm still the same, still wish everyone well,
but wish the same had been regarded of me.
i wish i hadn't been used as the remedy
for having been named the disease.
Graphic: Profil, by Francis Picabia, 1931