shame got me

I don't feel shame 
really, never have. 
Not really - not what 
I've come to understand 
shame is like for others. 
As a kid and since, I've felt 
guilt! Sure, and damn right 
too. Apropos. My fault is on,
when it happens. I don't balk 
or duck that shit. Own up, 
little buddy! Guilt's good 
though, see? Since it leads 
to fault, and fault's great. 
Find your own fault, you 
straighten that shit out pronto
and galore, and no problemo 
forward (of that exact type). 

So, shame, shame...shame is 
some bullshit where you cringe 
down inside yourself imagining 
your superego is other peoples' 
eyes giving you a BAD LOOK 
for what a bad person you are, 
either if they knew, or in some 
cases: because they know. It's 

like an inner blame magnification 
and anticipation lens! WHAT 

WHO would...? That's some 
ugly fucking inner shit, Holmes? 

But 
call me a hypocrite maybe,
since I just discovered a certain shame 
within me. No other word will do. It's
no guilt. Not apropos to the case, 
which is no "fault" really.

It's that same damn feeling: you
getting on you and roping in your
internalized global disapproval sense,
because 

face it
you're kind of a letdown. To you, 
even, and it feels better if you imagine 
a ton of people find that important. 
Big letdown. Letdown City. Letdown 
Planet. Sounds 

like a forgotten beat sixties mid-budget
sci-fi epic. People were disappointed. 

So what's my shame? How'd shame get 
me? It's 
this. 

This poem. 

Kind of a creeping feeling
that grows a little, too, over
time when I haven't been rhyming
lately. Now,

I know I can not rhyme. There is 

no shame! 

In not rhyming. I know that. 

But I like to rhyme! I love rhyme, and 
so when I don't, and it stretches out a bit 
- no rhymes - I dunno. 

I just feel like not my best. Like 
come on, asshole. Fucking rhyme