It's like I birthed an industry,
Blaming every sinner here, save me.
I know I threw the switch; I gave the order.
The sticky guilt is withering.
I tried to smash it all to smithereens.
Maybe you came up short; I came up shorter.
I've seen enough to know that no one's clean.
That much was blue/red on your screen.
I've seen all roads I take start from that night.
But I've discovered I'm no light.
I was in a foreign realm,
Neither by my guns nor at the helm.
And in some perverse way, that was a kindness.
That night I drove home, speeding--
My knuckles and my spirit bleeding.
Was coming back just one more act of blindness?
I see I'm young, but then I've seen so much.
And I have made that act my crutch.
I've seen some beasts that have me fit to burst,
But I've discovered I'm the worst.
Since there are worse things in this world to breed than fear--
Since I was flailing, and since grief was gauche that year--
Since it feels better to lash out than sit back down,
I slouched right back to town.
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