Reaching Past Winter

Blamed

What this silver owned
This sliver of betrayal
Like a cord, wrapped and
Stretched
Tight along the skin
Was a legacy of sorts
Contorted and confusing
Abusing the only hand
Willing to feed
Longing to fill
Its strand of life
The gift
That it despised

Why was it
Suffered to own
Such a treasure
Such a gift
Just to break
And pouring out
The heart
Bleeding onto stone
Yet blamed,
Berated life itself