I sometimes wonder if parents will
ever understand their kids,
Who would choose a stranger
over their parents to cry to,
Only if they could listen to
how they speak,
Or the pain from which,
they inspire their art from,
About how many suicide letters
were written in notebooks,
Which were brought to note down
ideas and aspirations,
How they beat their kids
to teach a lesson,
Which is unnecessary
as they've learnt to self-harm,
Because dealing with physical bruises
feel like a cake walk.
