My life reminds me much of a child, running through a meadow, with a smile from ear to ear, gaspy giggles, everything's perfect...they're safe. Then, it all ends, so quickly, the happiness, the laughter, the smiling...all that begins is a distant cry...just a dry cry, no tears, the pain is trying to come out, but all that's coming out is the blood from the scab...the child tripped, so quickly...tripped over a rock. My fears remind me of that rock...ending my happiness all at once, without warning...the scab reminds me of how much pain flows out of me, but no one offers a hand...the silent cry...reminds me of my silent cries for help...the one's I disguise with smiles and laughs...when will someone offer to help...just as someone would offer a hand to the wounded child and would carry them to safety...when will someone carry me to safety?