Roll the dice—BLAME!

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Ah!  
One of the easiest games  
To play.  
Where contenders pounce,  
Grabbing their chance  
Even before their turn arrives.  


And once done,  
They come off clean—  
Unscathed. Unaffected.  
Truth or lies?  
Does it ever really matter  
To anyone in the game?  

But for one...  
The victim.  


Quietly taking blow after blow,  
Fighting the urge  
To blow the whistle,  
To scatter them—  
Helter-skelter,  
Running for cover.  

Instead,  
She inhales deeply,  
Shrugs off the weight—  
Dead. Decayed.  
Gone long ago.  


Because she knows:  
The truth.  
The undercurrent of their play.  
The facade, the farce, the plan beneath.  

Yet she chooses differently—  
Plays her hand her way,  
Holding close what matters most:

Her conscience.  
Her integrity.  
Her relentless strength.  


These fuel her,  
Ignite her resolve  
As she steps forward,  
Shoulders squared,  
Facing the next round—  
One. More. Time.  

What a dark game!  
Your twisted, wicked  
Blame game!

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