Tattletale

I am not the guilty one,
And yet my spirit is laden down with
Shame.

I am unwilling
To play my dreaded role
On this accursed stage -
A whistleblower,
Tattletale.
How I long
To be passed by,
Father, if there exists another way,
Remove this cup from me.

I thrust my burden upon other shoulders,
Hoping to ease the load on my own,
But my undeserved guilt
Is only magnified.

I long for sleep,
For peaceful slumber,
Rest for my badgered mind,
And peace for my soul.
But rest for me will never come -
Doomed to wander the earth alone,
Concealing this unspeakable shame,
This secret burden,
One not mine to carry.

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