Ode to a teenager

Ode to the teenager,

who grew up too fast.

Whose eyes know too much,

whose face is a mask.

Whose life is a rock face,

beaten by waves.

Who stumbled, and crumbled

but stood still the same.

Who once remembered that one good thing,

when they didn't know;

to guard against the three bad

that surely would follow.

The one who once believed 

in a higher creation,

before the servants of him

proved a hypocrite nation.

To the hardened, yet soft;

the loving, yet scared;

who wonders if something happened

would anyone care?

Who wonders now,

 even more still,

do they care even now?

even though I'm not ill?

Who see through their mask?

Who notices their pain?

They look past the "Healthy"

only notice the slain

So they give what they didn't receive 

because they know the feeling.

Ode to a teenager,

a child without healing.