A sweet smell turned stench is what I’ve become.
Moth to flame is how they were before. The mere mention of my name is like water on a cat’s back or a whistle to a dog’s ear.
Every effort is made to stay away; a dramatic change from praying for a moments peace.
You say that I’ve changed.
You compare me to all the rest and say I’m no different from the others.
I see now why they rebuke you.
Have you ever wondered?
Did you even stop to think, as the years turned to decades that maybe, just maybe it could be you?
As the months turned to years did it ever accrue to you that it might not be their fault?
As the days and weeks became one endless, unyielding moment in limbo that you’ve come to call life; did you ever ask of yourself,
“Is this really life or am I just existing?”
Today I ask you,
“If you know that its no one else’s but yours; no fault but your own; no blame or issue but your own then today, again I
ask you; what are you going to do about it?”
©Christopher F. Brown 2009
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