The blame game

The blame game.

When I was imature, I blamed you
Everything that was going wrong was your fault.
It was easy being a kid, easy being blind.
You took all the forms I wanted,
Parents, governement, religions, lovers.
It was easy blaming you.

So, I sat down, and we had a little talk.

Me, my Self and I, together.

I opened my eyes and woke up facing a child.

She started to tell me stories

About talking animals, giant plants

And far away lands.

I listened, and we started drawing

The child seemed to enjoy art, so we made more Art

We wrote stories, and drew

We played and laughed.

She told me about her imaginary friends

Her favorite words were "always" and "for ever",

The good and the bad people.

She told me about her hopes and her dreams

A beautiful world filled with marshmallows

And happy people and always and for ever.

She was a cute little kid,

Naive as they should be,

So, I let her Be.

I kept to myself what I knew

After all, her world was as real as mine.

Full of Gods and Demons,

Emotions and afflictions.

When she was happy, she saw Gods everywhere

When she was sad, she called them Demons.

I let her to her kid world,

I had dishes to do

And a room to clean.

I had wood to chop,

And a book to write,

She sat doodling.

When she grows up,

Maybe she will read my book.

No more Gods or Demons

No more empty promesses,

No more for ever after always,

No more fairy tales.

The little kid was me, my Self and I,

We lived long and happy together.

In that story, there was no one to blame

All that remained was time to enjoy

A meal to share with friends

A delicious pie, and a good laugh.