"Don't worry, they're safe now.

You don't have to be a parent anymore. 

You can be 16.

Be a child."

But, I never was a child.

I don't know how to be one. 

All I know is how to shield, how to hold

small bodies tightly, 

watching small hearts break

under burdens too cruel to voice.

All I know is how to call 911

over and over

just to hear them say, 

"We cannot help you." 

And whisper, 

"Thanks anyways," 

so angry hands do not find my face. 

All I know

is how to lay still, to make it hurt less,

so the tears marching down my face,

soldiers in a silent war,

won't scare the younger ones. 

"You can be 16. 

Be a child."

 

I've never felt 16 

in a lifetime.