open pore,
pore, more,
a pore filled with crap
a pimple waiting to rise.
A crappy complexion all over.
My skin stretching further than it needed
My face red beaded
But who is to blame for the life I lead.
Don't think it is me,
though I blame you, for you
I blame you for who you are,
Judge you for it,
Those choices.
But me, I'm an accident.
an accident like no other, everything else, ever always,
exactly the same.
This was how you felt, before I said it.
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