"The Balkan Peninsula is surrounded by the Adriatic Sea, Aegean Sea, and Black Sea..." Looking around, I wonder which of you have problems with your family and who's kissed a girl or a boy and who has nights they barely remember when they were broken beyond repair, And who's skipped through a field, and batted their eyelashes and cried on someone's shoulder because I know we're all alive and we're together here, and I'm not alone, I have to believe I'm not alone you must've done stuff like this too why hasn't it been communicated? Why do I, like you, hide behind these uniforms in this class because the wounds are too raw to display to even others who have the same wounds? Why am I scared to tell you and to communicate who I am and these polite little lies cover up everything I say we're too scared to offend or hurt those around us and keep a bottle of feelings in the bed next to us, not-to-be-shared with any but one who is inside the bottle. Why do I write all these poems instead of paying attention in class? Because there's something unhealthy in that I can't say these things out loud and everyone is sitting writing their own poems privately, the cuts on their heart are more painful than the ones clearly visible. I can heal you. Show me.