Sitting in a row I see the white,
But behind them I see their shadow monsters.
Each monster is different,
Some from abuse,
Some genetic.
Their shadows manifest in different shapes.
I see yours sitting behind you,
Its a child cowering in a corner,
A child who feels alone.
But rather than addressing your feelings
With sharpened steel you snap-
A rubber band instead.
Leaving bumps instead of bloodied hands and scars.
I see yours sitting behind you.
A man breathing flames from his eyes,
Fire burning his chest.
You've come to terms, you know how to silence the fire.
You can put the flames out and away.
It hurts me to see them.
I see yours standing behind and over you,
A barely clothed child crying
Pure sadness.
The monster had his grips, his jaws, sunk into you.
But no more.
I cannot fathom the pain. I cannot emphasize with you.
I've never had to think about that pain.
Its not fair.
But here we sit, a room of broken people,
Yet no one knows.
No one shares it because its my problem.
My life. My choice.
It just hurts to know we're one in a room of broken.
I am currently attending a summer program for minority students. I noticed a recurring theme.