009. © Daniela Violin, All rights reserved

your quill frightens me...
one so young should
not know a quarter
of what your mind seems

to possess, and;

a drop of your ink holds
much more thought
than some thrice your age
or even more.

words are splayed on the page
each acting as a poetic SOS
from a child who never was
never allowed to be

I see the flares and they harsh at me
in ways I never thought possible;
my mellow is now a rough sea of pain for you.

your childhood innocence screams for you
but it saddens me that you can't seem to hear its cry
you're too far gone, too fast.


dear child...




the world was terribly mean