Was there any thought growing up. Had it occured to you, that you were trapped. In an experience. And from then on had to figure this out. And understand. Just how bad things could get. And even the odds for yourself. Moments where you had thought, I might be alone in this. And if or when I am. How do I do it? How do I survive this. Am I ready? Am I prepared. Is this it? It will get better, right? You had to convince yourself it would. To even get up in the morning. You observed whatever happened around and tried to understand it. With this naive sense of optimism. It's got to be set in place for me. It's got to have been set in place for them, right? But we were to young to understand. That they had suffered, to get where they were. This sick suffering of a world we were as kids veiled. But trust me some were ripped off of our faces as young as you can imagine. So imagine what it was like for them to have the innocence stripped off of them at such a young age. And what they had to endure to understand it.
There are certain places you don't want to go. You don't want to go there. And many have tried to scrub it off their memory, but the smudges remained. And I'm sure of it. And I'm sure of it. I just hope a sorry wasn't the end of it. Those places that should have never existed for a child of such an age. To experience. I'm sorry for everything you had to endure. A memory can be more sharp than a knife. That splits skin. And trust me it splits skin just as well. And trust me it. Destroys more than it could ever produce. I wish this wasn't the case. I wish this would have never existed. But more and more you realize the imagination isn't that far off. Isn't off at all. Oh what we would have done to have it any different. Oh if only someone had protected us. But what good if all a response I get is fainter than air.
There are certain places you don't want to go. You don't want to go there. And many have tried to scrub it off their memory, but the smudges remained. And I'm sure of it. And I'm sure of it. I just hope a sorry wasn't the end of it. Those places that should have never existed for a child of such an age. To experience. I'm sorry for everything you had to endure. A memory can be more sharp than a knife. That splits skin. And trust me it splits skin just as well. And trust me it. Destroys more than it could ever produce. I wish this wasn't the case. I wish this would have never existed. But more and more you realize the imagination isn't that far off. Isn't off at all. Oh what we would have done to have it any different. Oh if only someone had protected us. But what good if all a response I get is fainter than air.
