You may think you know, but you don’t.
You may think you understand, but you don’t.
You haven’t seen the things I have.
You haven’t experienced what I have.

You didn’t hear her desperate sobs become a nightly ritual.
You didn’t watch her slowly slip deeper into her own personal black hole.
You didn’t feel the fear spreading throughout your body like a disease.
You didn’t know what she was going to do.

You didn’t receive a text telling you goodbye.
You didn’t find the pills scattered on her floor.
You didn’t see the fresh wounds carved into her flesh.
You didn’t hear her beg to die.

You didn’t bury the secret deep inside for no one to know.
You didn’t know exactly what they were going to do to her.
You didn’t see your daddy cry for the first time.
You didn’t watch them take her away as your life as you knew it irrevocably changed.

You don’t feel the bitterness I do.
You don’t feel the guilt demonizing your mind.
You don’t feel the fear I constantly have to endure.
You don’t know anything about what happened that year.

But you do know her.
You saw her fake smiles,
The hurt hidden in her pained eyes,
The cries for help.

And you did nothing to stop it.