"It's okay now." I say to my little brother.
I wipe the tears from his tired cheeks
And kiss his forehead
It's okay now
I think

?

People ask questions
"Where are these bruises coming from?"
"Why is your eye black?"
"Where've you been?"
They don't know
These bruises show up because I slipped
My eye is black because I spoke up
I've been
Gone

I can't tell you straight
You would think differently of me
They always do
I can't tell you straight
It would just get worse
I can't tell you straight
Those would be the last words I'll ever
Say