Why can’t you see what you’ve already seen in yourself?
Why are the same patterns painted differently in your eyes,
when they look just the same to mine?
I can see how we both took the same path,
and I want answers and something to soothe me,
but it never comes.
You were at the end of a road,
watching me wander down it with wide eyes and a teddy bear clasped in my hands but you wouldn’t walk back down it,
you wouldn’t move from your spot to try and stop me going somewhere where nobody returns, and nobody is the same afterwards.
You let me change,
you saw it happen and you let things go the same,
you let me blame myself,
you let me surrender to shame and follow the same road you went down.
You saw my little legs making big steps,
and you closed your eyes.
You recognised how your own pain presented and you closed your eyes when mine started to mimic it,
I just want to know why we met eye to eye and walked the same path,
decades apart but you didn’t notice.
I want to know how the same monsters made their way towards me,
and you didn’t notice,
until they’d torn me apart.