You were just a child
No.
It doesn't change anything.
Not your smile,
Your acts of grace
Which came from a place
Wishing you would be remembered
For your kindness;
None of it will matter
When people have already
Made up their minds,
Choose to pick another fight
Where you have no one to embrace.
You'll be named
A—word I'll not repeat;
You don't need your future to be history
As you, my younger self, cannot erase
What is to come.
Even if this poem could be a warning
Of what you too will outlast.
You were strong in the past.
And you are now.
I am proud of you.
You were just a child.
I am proud of you.
You are just a child.
Comments (1)
What stayed with me most is what you chose not to say. The absence of the event itself makes the emotional aftermath feel even more real. It feels like we’re standing in the echo rather than the moment, and somehow that makes it heavier. The stanza about people already deciding who you are struck me deeply. There’s something painful about being named before you’ve even had the chance to speak. The repetition at the end doesn’t feel defensive to me. It feels restorative. This reads less like a warning to the past and more like a quiet act of absolution.