Mine

These bones are weak. They are frail and wispy. They are fractured, snapping as they break. I don't have a problem with placing the blame. Because I know where it belongs. My conscience whispers your name. Should've known all along. But I was blind. Idealistic lies. Made me believe that this would be made right. I was wrong. And now I'm left with weakness. Cringing at the thought of you. But my evasiveness, it does no good. And all I'm left with is weakness. There's a shred of hope, but it's not real. My optimistic mind protects me like invincible steel. My bones will be strong again. The marrow will satiate, and I will be whole.