{scapegoat}

slouched under the cobalt spruce trees, 

contemplating what could’ve been.

you are doing what you thought you always wanted,

yet you’ve lost perspective like a picture by Escher.

you can blame it on a straw vote,

or our propensity to boast,

but those are just scapegoats.

life hurts less when you see it for what it is:

an abstract, meaningless, form of art.

to be independent rather than indoctrinated;

to die courageous rather than cowardly,

you always talked of living a life like that,

but maybe that’s merely all it was.

–e.l. jayne