No.
She's not made of glass.
She's not worried about breaking.
She's not delicate.

Stop.
You don't know how she feels.
You don't understand why she doesn't want the spotlight.
You don't get what it's like.

Don't.
She wouldn't want you to talk about this.
She doesn't want them to know.
She won't want you to tell them when you have it all wrong.

Please.
Stop making assumptions.
Stop breaking her trust.
Stop talking for her.

Go.
This isn't what she wants.
This is why she's hesitant.
This is what she's afraid of.

When you see someone you love slowly fade away,
a little part of you dies.
Watching their laughing eyes turn red
filled with tears and hatred towards themself.

You know you're an outsider to their pain
and feel you can't do anything to help.
Every time you try
they respond with "I'm fine"
and shut you out with a face hot with shame.

Hopeless and helpless
they lie to your face
whilst crying in your arms
before saying they're "ok"

depressed...

                                                     ...tired...
They think they're worthless
and cut themselves to release some of the anxiety
Their blood staining your clothes
as you watch from the sidelines

It doesn't hit you until...

                                            ...it's too late...

                                                                                   ...they're
                                                                                              gone...

So lend them a hand,
embrace them in your arms,
comfort their tears,
tell them you understand,
and tell them they're not "fine",
that it's ok to be sad,
                           and you'll always be there
                                             to keep up their smile.
You may be an outsider to their pain,
                    so break down the wall and let yourself in.

I had grown out of time-outs - those imposed minutes of inward reflection, of self confrontation in wait and ponder. I had forgotten that slowing and pausing could be a productive use of time, and that eternity does indeed wait for all who have the stamina to stop the clocks and drape the mirrors.

I had instead lived for the future, passing abruptly / obliviously through the momentary present, robbing myself of the present time to consider, to discern, to consult, to learn from those like my father who had travelled further through time, having time to use the time-honoured travel method of patience.

And now, in my father's cooling presence, I stalled in an unfamiliar, unexpected hiatus between generations, and was forced to wait for what would come next.

And I paused.

It's not too crowded
Yet far too late in the day
For everyone to
React this way
It's not a sadness
It's a melancholy gladness

All this busy body bustle

STOP
   CLOSE lids
      And  just LISTEN

Don't Fret
Twist,
Wriggle,
Or shake
It's all you can take

You are not numb
Over blown or undone
You are One of Billions
In this crowd

you are so self-centric
full of yourself
like we should worship you
we don't matter to you
only your wishes and aims
nothing more or less
you sell us like slaves
make a fortune off our backs
not caring if we love or hate you
you're oblivious to us
your image on all the magazines
your fame is number one
as you are number one
we are number zero
infinitely below you
you our boss who loves
all the cash we make you
from our blood sweat and tears
it has always been this way
the moon spider feeding
we food to the hunter
but we say enough!
this ends tonight...

when violence will stop?
when will wake up this world? when evil will be gone?
when will we take masks off? when will we learn tell true?