I am blame.
I wonder how many people today I’ll accuse?
They’ll yell.  They’ll scream.  They will abuse.
I hear their feet stomping as they run from a crowd.   I hear their cries: splitting and loud.
I see fingers pointed at the young and the old.  I see people shaking, but not from the cold. 
I want Resentment to spread now -  as sorrow and shame are  flooding  their heads now.
I am Blame.
I pretend I am doing nothing wrong.
I grin as the fighting  goes  on and on.
I feel satisfied when I see the guilt and the fear
As victims on the edge burst into tears.
I touch people’s lives in the very worst way.   I do this with pleasure:  every day.
I worry the blamers will see how foolish they are – as this situation  goes -   too  far . 
I’ll cry if people find out the truth.  They’ll accuse every soul:  even the youth.
I am Blame.
I understand the sadness, and the despair.
Truth is, I really don’t care.
I say that I’m  “ just doing  what’s right.”
All I’m doing is causing fights.
I dream of the guilt the people will feel
As their actions become more outrageous, and unreal.
I persuade more and more people that they are at fault: as one by one, they begin to Assault.
I hope they never realize I am the enemy;
That for these kinds of wounds there is truly no remedy.
I am Blame.