Sole to Blame

The wind is an ever-changing current It chops, it Dices children's screams into a thousand smithereens The grass is an ever-growing forest It sways, it Competes with the seeds of a thousand other things The man...is a vessel...full of troubles...full of methyl The oceans all around him are the breakings of his assets The continents before him are just plains for all his shame The atmosphere above him is a painting of his regrets For which he's sole to blame. The bench is an ever-present fixture It stands, it Don't bow when we sit to feel a bit closer to each other The bench is an ever-breaking mixture It sags, the Story it has told me is a lesson to our folly The wood...is a vessel...full of stories...full of carbon The grasses all around it is the blanket for its ghost roots The wind that blows against it is the whisper of its name The girl that sits upon it is no innocent bystander She knows, she's sole to blame