Why couldn't the other kids notice?

Why couldn't they see the ugliness that was beyond the playground? 

Why was it that only she could see that her mother was crying, alone, and tired? 


She tried her best to ignore reality, wanting to be like the other children 

Running, running, running carelessly as they spoke of dragons and unicorns. 

But she couldn't- the need to help out her family was taking more time than to be usless like them. 


She knew her mother needed her. 

So she gave up playing less, doing the chores and cooking for her mother and her. 

Listening to every little, little word her mother spoke into her phone. 


Life was no longer just her imagination. Weighted with the sense of her mother's pain, 

Her sense on how she behaved and how she would speak or sit began to change. 

She no longer acted like a kid, wanting to be with the adults more often as they spoke to one another. 


Why couldn't the other kids listen to their words? Taxes, divorce. 

How could they still be playing dolls or going on their tablets at a time like this?

Where did her past self go?  




This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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