Little girl I know you have had a hard life.
You say you’re sorry and you shy away from the world.
Little girl I know you were abused.
I know your birth family didn’t want you.
Little girl I know you tried to make things work with your mother.
Little girl I know you love your grandma more than yourself.
Little girl I know you were bullied in school.
Little girl you aren’t so little anymore.
You are a teenager now.
I know suicide consumed your thoughts when you turned 12.
I know the voices in your head became louder, when you didn’t have anyone to talk to.
I know knifes and razors became your friend at age 13.
I know you were still abused and you wanted to get out of your parents’ home.
I know you wanted someone to listen to you.
I know how hard your life is, because I’m you.

There are secrets I do not tell
even to myself.
They are the same secrets
the cherry bossoms
know when they
proliferate the cherry trees.
Even as they prepare
to fall like confetti.

They are the
babbling secrets
Of  the mountain streams
as thier waters bounce stunned
into the rocks of the rapids.

Hush whispers the librarian
As the rows
and volumes of books.
Keep their dusty secrets
in her silence.

In the garden
The fluted speakers
Of the morning glory.
Sing only silence
Falling asleep
into dreaming nights.

Just about audible
the taunting voices
Of the
whippoorwill

Never tell
Never tell
Never tell.

Don't give up your heart,
you need it to live.
waking up beside you...
what I wouldn't give...
Tell me your okay,
don't let me cry.
I'll hold your hand as we say goodbye...