Red Eggshells

Drama.

I walk across the coals that you placed

along my path,

And I burn my feet with every step

that I take.

It seems like every movement I make,

or the things that I say,

or the actions I produce

are a blatant mistake.

Here I am working tirelessly

in this field.

Your crops are growing just fine but I

have no water.

It seems like every decision I make,

or who I've become,

or the life I intake

is a blatant mistake. 

Even if I say that I'm sorry

nothing will change.

The fault is all mine because my orbit is

not around you.

With every tear that I make,

or the fact I want to break

or my feelings' at stake

is a blatant mistake.

The eggshells - so sharp, on which I tred in this game

cut my feet.

And the blood spilled - my blood, with every step I take,

coat this path.

And these feelings you negate,

that I'm forced to regulate

now that they have been put on my plate

are still a blatant mistake.

Pick up these red eggshells that you've

left me with.

It isn't fair how I walk while you 

just sit there.

I can't apologize for this 'blatant mistake'

of which I knew nothing or meant to create.

I'm open to debate - mind the red eggshells, I've yet to

clean them up.