I know...
I know the blonde in the front row
Has a sister who is dying, I know
That he smokes cigarettes on the weekend and I know
Who has no mom and I know who
Gets left at home alone I know
Who goes hungry and I know, I know I know
That the girl with the short hair has an eating disorder,
And that guy broke his arm not in
Soccer but at 4 in the morning screaming at
His dad,
I know
I know he swallowed those pills last night and
They didn't work and I know
What their secret is
I know all of the
Whispered messages passed behind locked home room doors,
Notes slipped in lockers and calls for help on
The stairs
I know, I know I know
But only because
we are stuck
Woven tightly together
Spokes like the wheels in her wheelchair
Bound like his hands as the anxiety that I know (I know) runs
Through him like a train we
Are so alike that our stories mix and we get confused
We become each other, a uniform quality
Of thought; but
If I told you would you
Understand?
Is it right for me to want to leave my safety?
What if I am tired of not being me but being
everyone around me?
The smiles on our faces, too wide,
the makeup covering the tear stains on our cheeks
Gowns over pain, over layers and layers of pain
Mixing and matching our feelings
Moved by our own suffering
Just another voice in our crowd
Another picture
And I still know.
I know.