I feel small, like dead leaves falling from the trees in the winter, mingling with grass, the dying grass, she feels small, recounting the horror she went through, trusting; yet hating, the gaze so warm, but haunting, I am small looking at her, looking away to the sky, looking back, she looks away; for some reason we are both small, the wind picks up, and my dream dies slower, and she cries, I do not cry anymore...... by JW Farmer...January 2002 to anger, to hurt, to mistrust, to the sad truth that so many teenagers find out from they're parents today