do they know what my mind consumes and chants when all civilization is hushed and I am lerking these halls like a snake, slithering from room to room, tile to tile. do they know what my days are without my grandfather? I long for his touch, I'm starved of his love, his luring hugs and ensuring promises.... do they know that I'm desperate for that one last promise to become real not just false hope. do they realize that my dreams are filled with his brave, strong, superior face? or do they know that I have written so many sad, pathetic notes to him that I can't come to tell myself will never get to him, never to be seen by his eyes, heard by his ears, touched by his hands, engraved in his mind....

no, they don't because if they even took a second to take a walk in my shoes, hand in hand with the troubles that I face, they wouldn't try to tell me who I am, they wouldn't try to say that I'm the bad guy, no.. they would understand why I don't want to make friends with my enemies.... they wouldn't judge me, no, they would only be able to spit two simple words that have never been said **I'm sorry