"*****"
excuse me?
"*****"
... why?
"I saw you talking to all those other boys, you didn't report them"
Noah, Gus, Josiah, and Carwyn?
"yeah"
they sit at my table, I have to talk to them
I had to talk to you
"that doesn't explain why you don't report them"
that's easy, they havent--and will never do--what you did
"how do you know that?"
Noah knows better, we both know that
Carwyn is scared of me
and my mom knows Gus and Josiah's moms
"why don't you talk to me anymore?"
because you made me uncomfortable
and i'm not taking my chances
"but I won't do it again, I promise"
you had your chance and you blew it
"but... you still talk with Gus and Noah"
they didn't make me uncomfortable
and they were on my side
"but you said you had to talk to them"
right
and I had to talk to you
but you took it too far

This is to the girls, whose playground heart became roadmaps of battle scars
To the girls whose butterflies were ripped apart by the touch of broken men's palms
The girls who hold the secrets of these withered men's minds in their offshore hearts

This is to the boys, who instead of counting sheeps are counting strokes as the violence spreads to their mothers thighs
To the boys, whose fathers never became men
The boys with black-eyed hearts, borrowed smiles and have become breathing dead; with their hearts wearing the violence like a hoody

This is to the homeless whose wealth is stacked in heaven
To the homeless man or woman, who never dreams
The homeless veterans who became slaves with frostbites in their veins

This is to the minds casting ballots on whether to leave
To the minds, who seem to be endlessly failing at sea
The minds with no shadow to keep them warm at night

                                           Just
                                      S.P.E.A.K

                                                    - Ola Bajo