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It Is My Fault
If you told me that someone took away parts of you
that you wanted to keep
I would brush back your hair and let you lie into my chest
while you cried.
I would tell you that none of it was your fault.
I would prepare you to face tomorrow.
But someone has taken away parts of me
that I wanted to keep
and no one is here to brush back my hair
or tell me it is not my fault.
I have to believe that it is my fault,
that I did something wrong,
that I was not being responsible enough.
I have to believe that my “no”
wasn’t loud enough.
I have to believe that I am at fault.
If I don’t,
I will be admitting
how scared I am
and I cannot be scared.
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