That a child mixed a broken breed
Purposely denied her own fault
In it. I did not cry wolf out to My
Lagging defenders, nor know that
Touch, only his’n, wrong, and I became
Wrong to prove it right, his’n and mine.
I had no proof but my life - The
Destruction wide, but now closed
Mostly over, but I dare not tread upon it.
The covering is thin,
Threaded with cracks
Of family Love, and promises given
No love redeems me, only
Tears spilt over patterns repeating
Over, and over, into and over
A child waits for redemption
By the gutter walk to it.
Charlotte Ballard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-lying-fault/
