You don't know what we are. You're young and you're scared... Cowed by the want and abuse, Strange little words, Tantrums and softness. We were hit, insulted, Punishment was okay. We needed that... And crave it for more. Especially on you. The iron is cold and the lesson is deep, A promise of willow, that we’re driven to keep. You cry at the shadow, we lived in the dark, The lash and the lecture, left a scarred mark. We all see your comfort, we hear all your fear, The echo of silence... our pain... is all that we feel. But we are not allowed. We'd be locked and be bound... If we ever did to you, What they did to yesterday, You have no idea, none... what we would do... to you. A world made of colours and delicate breath, While we walked a line on the borders of death. You call it a trauma, we call it the truth, The bitter-black belt of a disciplined youth. The softness is glass. A few little words... Do you remember, What grandfather said? The world feels so wrong. You don't know... The weight of the brand. You don't know... How to fear the hand. The light is hollow. Kindness is softer, Your day is better. We're beaten, it's true, black, blue, red and raw... We're tougher than you.
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