I can't help but wonder why,

why everything is so easy to blab on and on and on about,

I could tell you about the boy who I held close enough to be my brother

tell you how his body looked in that hospital bed and coffin,

the way my mother's voice cracked talking about the way she was treated by her mom,

but I could never bring myself to name the boy who raped me.

maybe some things are better off unsaid.