Chin on Chest

My chin on my chest,
regretful of words,
regretful, the rest,
the things that you heard.

“Not me!” I pleaded,
I begged and I cried,
through tears, I bleated,
“Why me? Why, oh, why?”

Your back, the mirror,
I saw myself, clear,
fearful offender,
you left without fear.

The years quickly passed,
and I learned to see,
the pains of my past
were all caused by me.


©️ CGT, 2018.

2 thoughts on “Chin on Chest

  1. Been thinking about this one since first reading it. Its beauty, honesty, rawness, and story…well, no words, really. It is simply transported from your heart to the readers’. I admire your bravery and vulnerability in putting your wounds into poetry.

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