You enter my room so tall and brave,
Talking loudly,
Touching my things.
(Though you know I'd rather you not-)
I see the scars on your arm,
(and I know you made them)
I wonder about the scars on your soul,
(and I wonder who made them too...)
I see the pain in your eyes,
(despite your shy smile)
And I wonder what tears you must shed,
(when I'm not around to hear you)
I watch as you strut around and show me
Your bruised and bloody knuckles,
(and I wonder at the depth of your pain,
That you found the need to pound your fist
Against the stone wall surrounding your heart)
I see you pretend not to care,
When no one seems to listen-
(and I wonder if it would make you feel better,
If you knew how much I wanted you to be whole)
It seems so sad that you can't scream out your pain-
(maybe then you'd stop carving your designs in blood)
So sad that I can't comfort you...
(afraid to do something, afraid to do nothing)
So sad that I sit back and wonder...
(How long you will last, as you run out the door...)