It Is You: Not Everything You Said

Blame it on the rain that did not fall on you, Or on the sun that went not through your eyes. Blame it on the others proven to be right, Or on the gust you missed while passing by. Then realize all the blames are misconstrued. Point your fingers at the one who tries to aid, Who tried, failed and stopped ‘cause you’d laughed to tears. When now, no one resumes their regiment, And earth’s devoid of those like them that help, What would have been the aid your fingers made? Accuse the night upon it’s ageless silence, Just like you blame the gov’ment for your woes, And ask for work while relaxed on your toes, We know you would prefer money that grows. The way you’re seated is our evidence. Blame everything else but your lousy self, Blame all you want and find that it won’t help. For roses did not ever prune themselves. To wield the utmost beauty they become, They too were always rendered attention.