Only a few hours old,
already surrounded by love;
carefree and joyous
as her mother's lips touch
down on her cheeks.
Twelve months have passed
and she is beginning to learn;
how to walk, how to talk,
how to see the dangers
of this harsh world.
Two years now
her eyes remain blind
as she remains happy, oblivious
to the cruel world outside
her tiny childhood skies.
At three years old
she begins to understand
that the world is not safe,
that although she is young
they are already out to get her.
Four years of age
and happy as ever.
She has grown into a toddler,
careless and clever,
for she is still blinded.
Five years now
and she continues her life,
half-blinded, half-understanding.
She sees them fighting,
but sees nothing of it.
Her sixth birthday comes
and the fighting has not stopped.
She worries now,
but is hopeful that it
will all be better tomorrow.
By her seventh year,
she is joyful again;
surrounded by friends
who keep her away
from the terrible yelling.
At eight years old,
she understands that she lives
in a house, not a home,
but she remains happy
because there's always tomorrow.
On her ninth birthday,
she finally understands
that the world is evil,
and there is no escape,
yet she remains positive.
By ten years old,
she has felt pain.
The pain inflicted upon her
is nothing compared to
what tomorrow may bring.
Eleven years now and
she's plastering on a smile,
forcing a laugh,
half-heartedly joking,
and dreaming of childhood.
Twelve years have passed
now her fake smile is perfected.
No one sees her pain,
so no one worries. They
all assume they have tomorrow.
Thirteen years, her parents
begin to notice.
They say she is too young
to feel this pain,
but depression has no age.
By the age of fourteen
she has only gotten worse.
They have given her help,
but nothing works. She remains
in her shell until tomorrow.
She spends her fifteenth birthday
in a center for kids like her.
She found an escape,
but it comes with the price
of giving up tomorrow.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
Only a few hours old,
already surrounded by love;
carefree and joyous
as her mother's lips touch
down on her cheeks.
Twelve months have passed
and she is beginning to learn;
how to walk, how to talk,
how to see the dangers
of this harsh world.
Two years now
her eyes remain blind
as she remains happy, oblivious
to the cruel world outside
her tiny childhood skies.
At three years old
she begins to understand
that the world is not safe,
that although she is young
they are already out to get her.
Four years of age
and happy as ever.
She has grown into a toddler,
careless and clever,
for she is still blinded.
Five years now
and she continues her life,
half-blinded, half-understanding.
She sees them fighting,
but sees nothing of it.
Her sixth birthday comes
and the fighting has not stopped.
She worries now,
but is hopeful that it
will all be better tomorrow.
By her seventh year,
she is joyful again;
surrounded by friends
who keep her away
from the terrible yelling.
At eight years old,
she understands that she lives
in a house, not a home,
but she remains happy
because there's always tomorrow.
On her ninth birthday,
she finally understands
that the world is evil,
and there is no escape,
yet she remains positive.
By ten years old,
she has felt pain.
The pain inflicted upon her
is nothing compared to
what tomorrow may bring.
Eleven years now and
she's plastering on a smile,
forcing a laugh,
half-heartedly joking,
and dreaming of childhood.
Twelve years have passed
now her fake smile is perfected.
No one sees her pain,
so no one worries. They
all assume they have tomorrow.
Thirteen years, her parents
begin to notice.
They say she is too young
to feel this pain,
but depression has no age.
By the age of fourteen
she has only gotten worse.
They have given her help,
but nothing works. She remains
in her shell until tomorrow.
She spends her fifteenth birthday
in a center for kids like her.
She found an escape,
but it comes with the price
of giving up tomorrow.
