So many tears shed in the dark of night,
hidden away in our private thoughts
only to be shelved with morning's first light
because of no courage to speak of the pain
this part of our lives remain the same...

Mother's and Fathers, Sisters and Brothers
gather for holidays they hope will heal
while gathered together sharing a meal
what they bring, back from the past,
perhaps they'll be able to bed it, at last.

Years of analysis, a lifetime of good,
can be shattered with just one word,
maybe a look, or gesture of scorn;
any of which destroys years of progress,
all the good overturned,
At least that's what I'm told,
over and over again...

It must be nice to be the favored child of choice,
to not know the feelings of a life not rejoiced,
to know through life, whatever wrong you've done
in the eyes of the parents, you'll remain number one;
to not know what it's like to give of your soul
for recognition that you will never, ever know...