The false blame.

A half lit cigarette dizzying smoke, it all starts with a shame,
A drizzle by the night less visible, a passing stone in my name,
Undetermined i may seem, the plans still part of your game,
Turning blind isn't an option, its a darn woven around my tame,

An upside down tree in the middle, withering away in the same,
In this space so subtle, living a dream without the fame,
Acknowledging the wait it roots, down deep from where it came,
Where it all began so brisk, behaving a brittle flame,

Following a trace bit puzzled, a confusion lies so lame,
What i was that i am, what then unknowingly became,
A habitude to see through smoke, and to rise with it now i aim,
Looking through these glass eyes, putting up the false blame.