Drip. Drop. Drop. Drip.
This is the continued motion heard by none.
But where does it come from?
That is the question left to be answered.
Is it from the stream over the hill which trickles on forever?
Or from the rainy streets far away in a little town?
No.
It's from the little girl crying by her window with the bruises on her ribs.
It's from the child crying in the closet to avoid her father's irrational and drunk beatings.
It's from the blood that fell from his cuts that he made cuz he felt worthless and unwanted.
It's from the drool that fell from her mouth after she jumped off the chair with the rope around her neck.
It's from the tears of the family members burying the little girl who never got to see the "good side" of world.
This is all because of some people who don't know the meaning of the words, " kindness, self control, enough, and consequence"
If they did know,
The girl might have been smiling instead of crying.
The child might have been hugging her father instead of hiding from him.
The boy might have been cutting projects instead of cutting skin.
The girl might have been hanging with friends instead of hanging herself.
The girl might have been grinning instead being gone.
Now all that's left is regret.
The regret of the ''What if's''
The regret of the "It's my fault's"
The regret of.......
"What might have been"
-TJ
24/02/2016
(Quick a/n: tbh, at first I couldn't finish this cuz I ran out of inspiration, but then earlier today after I got home from school at around 3 pm I took a little nap and I had a dream/nightmare where all this crap was happening... so I put it in my poem b4 I forgot about it.. Hope you all liked it.^^)
