Poems, I Guess

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How would Little Me react?
Would she hug me after seeing my pain?
Maybe she’d laugh at the silly things
Or join me, listening to rain.

What would Little Me say
About the state of her home?
Would she cry in dismay or
In childish bliss, let the madness roam?

“Who is the bad guy?” she’d ask
“You wouldn’t understand” I’d say. “You’re far too young”
“Tell me, tell me!” she’d persist, yet again.
“It doesn’t matter” I sigh, “He’s not bad guy for long.”

So, tell me, dear readers, what would you do,
If your own Little Me had something to say?
Would you tell them the truth, of their world and their home?
Or would you let them grow up, in their naivete?