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Living among  death seeking children,

Is hard to do.

Hearing their suicidal screams while they are deep inside a nightmare,

Is unbearable.

dementia praecox, Antisocial,   and Borderline personalties,

Is what I must witness everyday.

Their ever changing moods and their flamboyant tempers,

I am forced to calm.



This searing  pain I hold, I cannot let be seen.

Even though it burns the inside of my skin,

and threatens to spell my secret out with my blood.



  And my surreptitious actions make the guilt,

that hides itself in my stomach,

Turn over  a thousand times

making the pain that much worse.



  Sullen teenagers walk around the white clad halls,

With grief stricken faces

and depressed tears, filled with salt and the medication,

that the doctors hope will cure them



  Numbing the pain, though, is not a cure.

    So day after day, I listen to their stories.

"I want to kill myself"

"I didn't mean to hurt her"

"I know my mother hates me"



   Hurtful words slip off  dark pink tongues,

as if it burns to keep them in their mouth to long.

"ashamed" "hate" "revenge" "Murder" and "suicide"

are the words I fear most.

For these are the words that put children

in places like this.



   How careless are people these days.

  A few simple words said behind someone's back.

A few evil glares, And they kill someone, inside.



These words, or looks, release something in a person.

The animal deep inside themselves.

The wolf that craves the taste of human flesh,

Or the  raven who simply wants to die.



  Crying is not something you want people to see you do,

But i cry

for these people, who want nothing more then to be happy.

  And I cry because I need to tell my secret.

    

     "I am one of them"

My reflection stares back at me,

but i don't recognize the person in the mirrior

when she says

  "I know."