I always look around, when I do something wrong
For that someone else, to whom the blame belong
It is not my fault, it’s yours. You know made me do it
You distract me, breathing. Please, I wish you’d quit
We never want to “fess up” and call a mistake our own
We act like little babies, even though we are full grown
We take responsibility for actions that bring us praise
But in answering questions about mistakes, a blank gaze
Now it seems very silly, when we clumsily drop things
To blame the other person, as if they pulled our strings
Why is it so hard to admit that we did something wrong
Are we afraid that somehow it makes us look not strong?
© Copyright 2016 attanasio. All rights reserved.