Some children must carve out a life under silence
undercover, in closets, between the pages of books,
and folded notes. Some children with no freedom
to breathe their own thoughts must chisel out
a soul from rock hard alabaster parents, cold
and unforgiving in their expectations.
Some children grow up and move away
or move inside or choose a blade or load a gun
or swallow pills or murder other children
with no remorse. Then we cry and wonder
and curse them in our sleep.