Piece 6: Andrew

I miss the unknowing bliss,

Not yet burdened with my truths,

Comforted by the unknown.

To know is to be in misery,

To know makes you question your own reality,

My own personal hell.

It became hard to smile,

I miss being able to whine over the simple, pointless, & trivial things.

Now I get to cry about each & every lie.

My sister tried to protect me for as long as she could.

I remember the day I learned the truth,

She held back the tears as she spoke,

I had never experience anything worse

Than what she told me:

My mother left me on that dirty park bench,

She didn't even have the decency

To leave me on some church or hospital steps.