“Like I,

The moon bruises,

But we shan’t suffer alike.”

One of youth,

A child in both body and mind,

Should never know such pain.

Yet the stars listen,

To her waning whisper,

Breaking with untellable sorrow,

“I shan’t suffer like the moon,

I shan’t!

I shan’t!

We shan’t suffer alike,

We shan’t!

We shan’t!

The alike suffer like the moon,

Yet I,

Like bruises.”

Craters line its skin,

Never to disappear,

But she always heals.

When bravery allows for speech,

No one will believe her.