| There is no Answer I wanted to write you a poem, my troubled child, to thrust under you nose and into your hand saying, "Here, read this," that could say that I love you and that I see you're unhappy so that for once it could be said and acknowledged in full without you looking to me to resolve your problems. What is the answer? There is no answer. Everyone makes a big deal of everything you do wrong. You're sad, abused, mentally ill, depressed, and the only thing you say is, "I don't belong on this planet. Oh, God, if I find you swinging from a rope I'll be next. What is the answer? There is no answer. No one really has any instructions besides, "keep your mouth shut," "quit crying," and "don't pee your pants." No one wants to deal with you, and what does that say? That everyone else is an uncaring freak; but to say it's not your fault only makes it worse for yourself. What is the answer? There is no answer. PamEhli/June 2003 |
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