I wrote this a looong time ago, and just came upon it. It fits even more today than when I wrote it.
***
Things are so easily justified. Pain, slaughter, it was for this reason or that. It's right because...we must because...they should have known better...their fault, always, never mine. Never responsibility, only response.
I never intended.
Did you give alcohol to that minor?
I didn't intend it.
Did you let your friend drive inebriated?
Wasn't my fault.
Did you beat them up?
They provoked it. They wore the wrong clothes. They said the wrong thing. They made me angry. Their fault. Their fault. Blame them. If they hadn't, if they didn't, if they weren't.
Did you kill them?
Father called me names. Mother was a drunk. Was teased at school. He did. She was. They were not. Not my fault. Blame them. Can you blame me?
A gun in class. Twelve teenagers dead. Families broken.
Not my fault. They outcast me. They thought I was weird. They didn't understand. Their fault. Blame them.
Don't spank your kid because it will make him blow someone away when he's older. You were abusive. You were too strict. Your fault.
Don't spank your kid, and he won't take you seriously, he'll buck your authority, he'll run with the wrong people, he'll do the wrong things, you can't stop him. He'll hurt someone. He'll end up in jail. You were too soft. You were too lenient. Your fault.
Gates, shining like the goldest gold, the purest pure. The land beyond even more shining, even more pure, all that is wonderful. The man opening the gates, his robes white as white, clean as clean. His eyes an eternity of eternities.
Let me in the Gates. None of it my fault. Society made me kill. Society made me murder. Made me drink with its propoganda. Made me smoke pot with its peer pressure. Made me beat my kids by making me feel inadequate. Made me leave my pregnant wife for a young **** because it was cool to have many women, and not cool to be a responsible father. Made me chain a big dog out in my yard and then leave it to starve, because it made it mean, and because they needed that to give me respect. Not my fault. Let me in. Blame them, blame them.
The Gates close. The eyes look more saddened. The man in his pure robe walks away. Standing there alone. Outside the Gates. Looking in. Wondering why. Not your fault. Must be His. It's HIS fault He's not forgiving enough. His fault He did not solve your problems. His fault He let the world be as it was.
"Why didn't you take away the pain? Why did you let the suffering happen? Why did you let society make me do these terrible things?" The scream rattles the Gates. Eyes look back.
"Why did YOU?"
No one drinks but you. No one smokes but you. No one lashes out in anger but you. No one abuses but you. No one hates and hurts and lies but you. Whatever happens around you, none of it takes that last step but you.
Step wisely. Society does not have to wear your shoes.
***
Things are so easily justified. Pain, slaughter, it was for this reason or that. It's right because...we must because...they should have known better...their fault, always, never mine. Never responsibility, only response.
I never intended.
Did you give alcohol to that minor?
I didn't intend it.
Did you let your friend drive inebriated?
Wasn't my fault.
Did you beat them up?
They provoked it. They wore the wrong clothes. They said the wrong thing. They made me angry. Their fault. Their fault. Blame them. If they hadn't, if they didn't, if they weren't.
Did you kill them?
Father called me names. Mother was a drunk. Was teased at school. He did. She was. They were not. Not my fault. Blame them. Can you blame me?
A gun in class. Twelve teenagers dead. Families broken.
Not my fault. They outcast me. They thought I was weird. They didn't understand. Their fault. Blame them.
Don't spank your kid because it will make him blow someone away when he's older. You were abusive. You were too strict. Your fault.
Don't spank your kid, and he won't take you seriously, he'll buck your authority, he'll run with the wrong people, he'll do the wrong things, you can't stop him. He'll hurt someone. He'll end up in jail. You were too soft. You were too lenient. Your fault.
Gates, shining like the goldest gold, the purest pure. The land beyond even more shining, even more pure, all that is wonderful. The man opening the gates, his robes white as white, clean as clean. His eyes an eternity of eternities.
Let me in the Gates. None of it my fault. Society made me kill. Society made me murder. Made me drink with its propoganda. Made me smoke pot with its peer pressure. Made me beat my kids by making me feel inadequate. Made me leave my pregnant wife for a young **** because it was cool to have many women, and not cool to be a responsible father. Made me chain a big dog out in my yard and then leave it to starve, because it made it mean, and because they needed that to give me respect. Not my fault. Let me in. Blame them, blame them.
The Gates close. The eyes look more saddened. The man in his pure robe walks away. Standing there alone. Outside the Gates. Looking in. Wondering why. Not your fault. Must be His. It's HIS fault He's not forgiving enough. His fault He did not solve your problems. His fault He let the world be as it was.
"Why didn't you take away the pain? Why did you let the suffering happen? Why did you let society make me do these terrible things?" The scream rattles the Gates. Eyes look back.
"Why did YOU?"
No one drinks but you. No one smokes but you. No one lashes out in anger but you. No one abuses but you. No one hates and hurts and lies but you. Whatever happens around you, none of it takes that last step but you.
Step wisely. Society does not have to wear your shoes.
