Sorrow moves in us,
Confusing our senses.
When it moves to the head,
It takes away our defenses.
It leaves us vulnerable
To doubt, inertia, and shame.
We carry a heavy burden when
Others, harmfully, say our name.
For we know deep inside our soul,
This is no simple made up game,
But real emotions, painful thoughts,
That cut us like a sharpened knife,
And leave us feeling like time forgot
Once more, the reality of us existing.
Our tears fall on child-like faces,
Leaving our sightless eyes misting.
Sorrow moves to the throat,
Drying up the moisture, now gone.
We barely speak our words by rote.
We are told to share the thoughts
We have built our lives upon.
Those thoughts now, have no meaning,
We learn slowly not to care by
Cutting off access to all feeling.