Keep her outside, will you?
But it’s not a question.
In the echo of a slammed door,
the verbal guns begin to fire.
I can put you on the trampoline
because you’re young.
But you still hear every word
and there’s nothing I can do.
Plates, thrown.
Nerves, plucked.
Keep jumping, kiddo.
It’ll be alright.
"Do you think we could reach heaven?"
Maybe if we tried.
Such an innocent face,
Your skinned knees bend farther.
Throwing yourself
to the clouds.
Sorry, kiddo.
There’s no escaping this.
But I know it feels better to try. |