The Breakdown

So it's come to this.
Finally.
You've opened up
(All the way)
To the truest layer
And I hate what I see.
I perceive a deep resentment
Of me
Of the others
Of yourself.
Are we to blame?
(Am I to blame?)
Is this because of me?

So it's come to this.
This distribution
Of shame
Of hatred
Of infamy.
You hate me
This is clear.
But how could you not?
When I am such an easy target
For your rage towards
Your shortcomings
Your failures
Your disappointments?

So it's come to this.
This labeling
Of our roles
That were
And are
And always will be.
(Because you hate change,
And change is me.)
I was the mistake
You caught too late
And which now cannot be erased.
Because I am ink
Deep and dark
And immutable.
And I do not disappear
Under the white paint
That you plaster over me
Trying to hide me
From memory.

So it's come to this.
This hiding of
Past
Destruction of
Future.
I will not disappear so quietly.
I do not unravel so neatly
As the others
Have
Did
Will do.
I am not silken cord
But tough old rope
And I am stronger than that.

So it's come to this.
The breaking of my heart
Tough as leather.
I thought it would never come.
But maybe
That leather
Was only a case
For the porcelain heart trapped within
And now that heart has shattered.

So it's come to this.
It's all come down to this.
And there's nothing else left.