Tragedy courses through my veins,
And every time blood slides down my
Face, I am reminded of the trouble I have
Caused to everyone I have touched.
I have learned that there is no way to
Cope with the troubled child.
There is no way to plaster a new heart
For the child's whose has stopped beating.
Sometimes you will ask the questions that
Make them cry and the only thing you can do
Is pretend that everything in their life is okay
And the tears are dew on their petals, yet you
Will both know that they are not bloomed, but
Closed up within their self, as if they have lived
A lifetime within a number of years.
You can't read them like a picture book;
You have to read them like a classic novel, keeping
In mind that some thing's aren't going to be easy to
Understand, because you both were created in such
Different times and places.
Some days they will have glazed and distant eyes and
You shouldn't interrupt them, let them try and
Make sense of what's happening in their life,
They will come back to reality soon enough.
They are the ones that you will leave alone
In the night, without understanding why you did,
But you will claim that you surely did love them.
Maybe the problem with the troubled child is the fact
That your love means nothing to them when they can't
fathom what it means.
When they harbor many of life's misery and questions
They would rather answers, so they themselves can make
Sense of tender emotion.
Yet, until then, there will never be a way to cope with
The troubled child.
