Shame. Shame. Shame.
June 11, 2012
She always knew it when it was coming her way. The feeling never differed much from the other. The choke up in her throat, the lingering sigh in her nostrils and the upper respiratory panicking that met with a racing heart. She could feel shame as it traveled near, it’s ever present heaviness with it’s reoccurring blinding of hope. Shame. Shame. Shame., each called her by name.
Drug addicted pained adults and teenagers knew her name. They were not always zombies of substance. Mostly they were hopeful angels needing guidance, but when the angels was not at their posting, Shame. Shame. Shame., knew to call their names.
You Adulator, Whoremonger, Queen, Leopard, how many stripes have covered you at night, how many heads have counted your stripes. You never knew love, you position yourself to defend it, all while exuberantly exonerated them for the “it’s” they did to you again and again. Just to have someone to call your friend. And not only men. Shame. Shame. Shame.
Why not find something or someone to blame.
When thinking of choices another has made, ask yourself first, what didn’t they choose? What was to aid in the way they behave?
Tell the truth and Shame the devil. We all have lived with the lesser of two evils, Shame just allows you to aim.
Tomorrows post: What are you going to do about it?
Read. Post. Facebook. Tweet. Share. Return. There truly is a message behind the messenger.
This has been Sharon Saffold blogging on purpose and not by chance because chances are, I will blog again.