As I lay here, my adult self
in the middle of the night,
I ponder the rain outside and why
It gives me such a fright.
What happened to that small child
So long ago?
Does anyone inside or outside
Even care or know?
What happened to her, to us, to we
Little ones who try to hide in the trees?
Why should we know what we have seen?
Did everyone in our lives have to be so mean?
How do we know what to do, where
To go, who to believe and when to say no?
Everyone we love tells us we must
Be part of this thing we have come to distrust.
This family of people who say they love us
And to touch us is right and it is just.
Where do we go?
To whom do we run?
Our life here is over
Before it is even begun.
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