I Heard it from my Cricket of a Conscience

I shrugged off the sentiment

Because I didn't think it mattered.

But I suppose I was misguided,

Because your appearance tells me otherwise.

If I could begin to count the times

I've heard someone make me a promise,

And then shove it down my throat

That I owe them something I don't have.

Well I suppose everyone wants something

And how undesirable it seems

That I'm supposed to learn my lesson

From something that doesn't concern me.

How typical of you.

And just when I swore that you were different.

You'd think by now I'd start to catch on

And realize that everyone will be identical.

And I know you didn't hear it from me,

No, not this time.

I've been careful to keep my mouth shut

Even when I had to glue my lips together.

But that's the price I pay

For being born as who I was.

Just this writer with a conscience.

Yet I lack in everything else.

Believe me, I understand

I know I'm not a predominantly lovely person.

But I've heard that can happen

If you lose assurance in everything around you.

And so you're searching for someone, anyone

In which to point your finger at.

But your hands are just as poisoned

As those you're seeking to hold accountable.

But, if it will help you rest

I suppose I don't mind taking on your afflictions

Since I'm the one who placed them there,

Isn't that right?

You just have to promise me

That you'll forget that I exist.

Because what I need is something different,

And it seems smart enough to start right here.