My Fault

"It's not my fault," I whisper

when past wrongs are brought

to light in front of my eyes.

Explanations pass my lips

Or false admissions do the same

But truly inside I feel so hurt

So betrayed.

I did that wrong,

Or I said that wrong

But why should I say I did it

when reasons float about

that easily can be pointed to

for my sins.

And when I do voice it

when I say I did this thing

Or yes I am this way

I dread what others will

inevitably say.