but the price to bear

we gather around the fire,
hearts hardened with fear,
hands stained with borrowed rage,
the scapegoat stands in shadows,
bearing the weight of our collective sin.

it’s easier this way,
to point the finger,
to sharpen the knives
and wield them against
the one who mirrors our darkest parts.

we lash out in unison,
a symphony of displaced guilt,
trauma ricocheting through generations,
echoes of unresolved pain
we dare not claim as our own.

we need a target,
a vessel to pour our poison into,
someone to wear the shame
we cannot bear to face,
to suffer in our stead
so we might feel clean.

the mob’s fury is a fever,
a catharsis for our wounds,
a temporary balm
for the festering sores
of neglect and self-loathing.

in the chaos, we forget
it is ourselves we despise,
our own shadows we fear,
we are the beast we hunt,
the prey we devour,
lost in a cycle
of blood and blame.

yet, in the aftermath,
the silence is deafening,
the mirror unbroken,
our reflection unchanged,
the truth waiting in the stillness,
patient and unforgiving,
reminding us
there is no escape.