No Choice
As I watched the children out playing,
I kept hearing a soft little voice;
It seemed to be saying, again and again,
You really had no other choice.
Remembering times when bruises were new,
Those seen as well as unseen;
though I'd hidden the truth from everyone else,
you saw through the lie, so it seems.
You knew the pain I was feeling,
Though you'd never been there yourself;
you saw I was hurting and lonely,
so why couldn't anyone else.
Copyright © Mickey Stroda | Year Posted 2007
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