Cosmic Scapegoat

I was the scapegoat in a house of mirrors,
where truth bent,
and blame ricocheted
off every crooked surface.

They cast the golden child in gold,
polished and placed,
on a pedestal so high
the dust of their lies couldn’t reach, no no.

And me I wore the weight of the cracks
bearing sins I never asked to hold.
They built me as a shadow
someone to point at when the storm hit.
So they could stand dry in their illusions.

The flying monkeys circled laughing,
in echoes of the narcissist’s voice,
believing the script,
feeding the machine.
Believing the script,
feeding the machine.

I was adopted by books a secret sanctuary,
they never understood
because they didn’t care to read.
That’s it and outside,
friends found me.
In their eyes, I wasn’t the broken glass,
but someone whole,
capable of shining in my own way

Their laughter was different,
no barbs, no hooks;
just light.
With them,
I didn’t have to be the scapegoat.
I didn’t have to be anything but myself.

And then one day,
Carl Sagan told me
I belonged to the stars.
Not to my family
and their narrow rooms filled with ghosts.
I was made of the same dust
as the cosmos, star stuff,
part of something infinite,
far beyond their reach

I didn’t need a sense of belonging
to that group
when I already had a sense of belonging
to a much better, much bigger one

In that moment,
I let go.
I saw my place,
not in their twisted mirrors,
but in the endless sky,
orbiting around
something deeper, something cosmic,
a belonging not built on praise or approval.

I am enough —
in the quiet of the stars,
in the roar of the sea,
in the stillness of my own breath,
where no one can tell me
who to be.

I was made of the same dust
as the cosmos, star stuff,
capable of shining in my own way

Listen to this song in youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozoKMzjoik4