How are we allowed to grow
When our silences are spread thin,
Our cheeks forever touched
By strangers on trains.
When our eyes are glued to
The girl crying in the bathroom,
And a child following
His mother carefully along the crowded street.

How are we allowed to grow
With the shouts from parties next door
Break down the bedroom walls,
When that boy who you used to be friends with
Walked down the other side of the street
And you hope he doesn’t see you,
When the man starts yelling obscenities
From the corner of the park
And you want to believe his words.

How are we allowed to grow
With all of the pain,
With our brief glimpses of joy,
With our arms outstretched for a better future,
With our minds stunted in the past.

How are we supposed to grow
When our very bones are torn apart
By questions we can never answer.