No Mercy

Today I want to tell you a story

Contrary to what I say usually, 

This story isn’t about me. 

I’m a part of it for sure, 

But I’m not the main character 

And I never will be. 

So let’s begin, shall we? 

I was five when I was told that a mistake is a fault, no matter what you do

Eleven when I was told that a lie is a crime, no matter why you did it. 

And only yesterday was I told that a lie is a mistake which is a fault, which is a crime.

No mercy

So today, I want to ask, what if the lie was to save me?

Because either way, lie or not. You show me no decency. No mercy. 

And what about those lies?

That you like me, you care for me? 

Where are those “truthful phrases” when you tell people that I am a nobody

Didn’t you lie to me?

I know that I have done a blunder, 

But have you counted the number of times I’ve apologized?

This time, honestly?

I want to tell you something, eye to eye

Every single day, I hear something new.

Your improvised advice to people that you once despised. 

Why? Because today I am the one that has exasperated you. 

Well, isn’t that new? 

Walking down the narrow, emerald, cream marbled tiled floors

That absorbed more giggles from me than footprints. 

I wonder whether a single flaw makes a personality dented, cratered, dangerous. 

It shouldn’t be, but seemingly it is. 

Because somehow regret is not a feeling rather to a lie, a mistake, a fault, a crime. 

As bad of a person I seem at present call, 

I always hid, protecting, running from your touch, often tripping. 

Because if I tell the truth, I don’t respect friendship

If not, then I am untrustworthy. 

But, is cure the solution when prevention didn’t wipe your tears. 

The reason why you feel that I am not who I seemed to be is that I feared this day. 

I put myself on sale because I feared which card next you will play. 

But in return? 

No matter how much I cry, beg or stare, 

To you, my existence has been a lie. 

I disagree but with nothing to prove my stance this time. 

If I am the villain in this story, then why am I the one warming the empty chair,

In between icicles, because I have no one to warm the seat next to me?

I may have detached this latch, but you are the one who drove away, leaving me as the detainee. 

Remember when you asked me, what anybody has done to me? 

This is what you have done my dear, honesty based friend. 

The pigtailed girl in the frosty, fingerprinted, foul mirror all grown-up said.