To the Kids, We Hear You
This is to the kids,
who cry.
to the kids with the broken past,
to the kids with an even more
shattered family,
we hear you.

To the kids who’s troubled,
beaten for every reason in
every season with lash marks
that bear scars, hits that
crumble you down into bits til
bit by bit you are no longer a kid no more,
we hear you.

To the kid who is singled out because he can’t escape
the jungle gym on time to get his
lunch that he can’t afford.
because his father is nowhere
to be seen and his mother is struggling 2 jobs
nine to five, five to nine, each day just
to stay afloat.
but the ship is sinking,
so he stays on the monkey bars
to keep him from drowning. Feeling that the only thing he has to safety,
is being alone.

To the kid whose parents couldn’t stop fighting,
feuding only to tug at war
with his heart and push and
pull as if he were a rope but the
string was to fragile and broke like the glass dish that he threw
at her, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Just like the marriage,
just like the house,
just like the kids happiness.
We hear you

to the not so smart, but oh so kind hearted, “what are you retarded?”
Mom and dad said,
as it echos through the halls in his mind
but stops at the gate of his heart, for he sees abuse and bitterness,
but only knows love and forgiveness.
We hear you

To the unsung just kids,
to the unloved drugged up kid,
to the damaged, bandaged, but barely managed to get by kid.
To the invisible feeling miserable kid,
we hear you.

To get beaten down day by day,
and you just try to get away and your teacher asks,
“Hey, how is your day?”
And you smile.

A smile,
something that is so simple but carries so much.
You feel the bruises and the aches
and pains,
and the depression, getting to you
but it fades away for only a moment.
And in that moment your emotions rush through your heart and up the windpipe but your mind
is telling them no,
but the heart, the heart says yes
but the emotions sinks,
and it hangs heavy like a ball and chain and the only thing that can come out is,
“It’s good.”
S***, I guess i’m good,
with a little smile,
and a little laugh,
just to hide the
real you.

Cause this isn’t you, you know the real you,
we hear you.

To the kids who are oppressed,
bounded by barriers and chains, walls that sink into
the pain like roots,
to the core,
to the mute.
The kids who say the words I can’t, because
they have engraved the words “you can’t” into everything they ever were.
You can’t write good
you can’t draw good
you can’t read fast enough
you’re weak in math.
Turn the, “I can’t”
into, “I can”,
I can write good,
I can draw good
I can read fast enough,
I am strong in math.
We hear you

Let it be known that you can’t mute creativity, they gave you a marble slab notebook, and a
pencil to chisel your story with,
nothing is stopping you
from creating a masterpiece,
stand firm,
carve in your roots,
your stories,
your struggle,
let it be known,
let it be heard,
let it be sung,
let us hear you,
because we hear you.