Blame Yourself
Blame Yourself
Standing by the open door,
You look upon a dismal garden,
No flowers. Just dull.
Are you saying,
That a flower will bloom,
Among these rock and stones,
Of sorrow and woe?
Nay, all that will grow is a weed,
You can’t change that. For all I know,
It was you who planted the seed there.
You think that you can do the deed,
Play a game of hide-and-seek,
And just turn away the blame and fault,
And hide in an underground vault?
Cry, as the flower withers,
And a bee turns away sad,
No nectar. Its gone,
Way into the past.
Turn away from that door,
And see the dim lit house,
The house is your past,
The garden your present.
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