Blame
They said certain things,
They pricked where it stings,
They irk when they win,
They threw certain remarks to cling,
But who is to blame? Their self-absorbed grin?
They never had any name,
They all looked very same,
They all had only one aim,
To me, they all were very lame,
But who is to blame? Their nagging pain?
They taught me some games,
They told me to have some shame,
All they knew how to claim,
Of things who they can rename,
But who is to blame? Their cocky fame?
They loaded the gun to fire,
Of things which they can never acquire,
By nature they all were a big fat liar,
Just they came with different attire,
But who is to blame? Their self-righteous prior?
Copyright © Shraddha Tripathi | Year Posted 2022
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