A Note to No One In Particular

I always feel a twinge of anger, a truck load of guilt, and a dash of sorrow whenever I think of her But mostly nothing at all My guess is all those year of cuts to the bone ingrown toenails and broken bones weren't quite stitched up, fixed up and set - right She used to hit a racquetball against those grungy, white walls until she felt like she was going to puke And then she'd do it all over again She could hear the rebukes of her own self loathing in the echoes of those four towering walls encasing her. It would only make her hit harder And I don't mean just the balls Her screams were deafening as they traveled roundtrip, back into her pounding head - but her words don't make a sound Just like when she was a kid I don't think she could tell you how many times she's felt it, smelt it, delt with its silent cry She says sometimes she feels like a cloud - strolling along a fixed path in the sky only the wind knows it's destined to go - with no will of her own No one to really care Just like when she was a kid I always feel a twinge of anger, a truck load of guilt, and a dash of sorrow whenever I think of her But mostly nothing at all Probably because I care too much Yes, I do care. We're going to make it She may have lost hope, But I am determined