Here’s the story
of five kids.
Two girls
and one boy.
And the only one
who will speak the truth.

Here’s the third.
An Italian boy.
He plays the cello, writes poems,
Watches anime and brags too much.
He seems rather confident,
But on the inside, he is not.

Much like the fourth,
he's depressed.
And much like the fifth,
he's insecure.
He doesn’t try to hide it, though.
E v e r y b o d y k n o w s.

He’s getting help.
He has been for years.
But it’s just been getting worse
and everyone can tell.
I wish I could guarantee
that he is not alone.

He knows I'm always there.
A shoulder to cry on.
A pillow to hug.
But he doesn’t say anything.
Never.
Not unless the first talks first.

He used to make me uncomfortable
because he was weird.
Now he just makes me uncomfortable
because of his touches.
But aside from that, he’s amazing.
And he thinks I am, too.

He calls me Dad
and the first Mom.
I don’t love him like a daughter though.
More like a brother.
We look like twins, anyway.
It was just a Fourth Grade joke.

I will protect this boy with everything I have.
I will better myself for him.
I will help him through this.
I will listen to him problems.
I will prove I love him.
I will not let anyone else fall because of me.