I must be the one to blame
For the call that never came.
I’m a failure at friendship
For assuming it went both ways.
I’m a failure to my family
For assuming that I existed to them.
Our image is immortalized in a frame
Sitting by the phone.
I must be the one to blame
For ending up so alone.
These days, betrayal’s all the rage;
What is wrong with this picture?
I want to know what I’m doing wrong;
I’ll accept anyone’s scripture.
No wonder I’m out of energy;
I treat people like royalty
But receive little in return -
This silence is the ultimate burn.
If a peasant sings a song,
And no one is around,
Will she ever be found?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem