The Shovel

You think this is my fault?
You're so naive.
Can't you see it?
The shovel is in your hand.
Yours, not mine.
You have done the digging.
You dug your own grave.
You chose to do this.
Another poor choice.
One more shovel of dirt.
A deeper grave.
You stop.
You think,
and lay the shovel down.
It's pointless.
You didn't fill the hole.
You're trapped at the edge,
destined to fall.
As you trip,
I grab your hand.
I can't fill the hole
or fix your mistakes for you.
But I will be here.
I will support you.
I'll help if you let me.
So, pick up the shovel.
Fill the hole.
Take responsibility.
Or, keep digging.
It's your choice.
Make it.