may yelp, may gnaw,
and won't take no for an answer--
a miniscule entity
containing the frightening delirium
you mistook for truth.
You blamed me for your internal demons,
saying I somehow highlighted them,
made them more apparent to you,
although I don't recall verbalizing any negativity,
anything other than
praise for your talents.
I picture myself in the audience
at your open mic nights,
at every show you ever played at,
even when you had bronchitis,
even when your voice was hoarse.
Insecurity is not as tangible
as a person,
say, me,
the closest to you--thus I am
the easiest to blame.
Projection.
I forgive you,
I hope you know now
that I am not the reason.
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