Abuse no.3

i had a neighbor named Bart who was sort of odd.

he kept saying sorry for all the crimes he didn't do,

and bent his head when someone cut him out of view.

we respect those who speak up, 

but what about the ones who keep silent?

why do they do that?

we commend those who don't apologize,

who let themselves make mistakes in bravery,

and call the rest of them a coward.

but why do they do that?

meet someone,

follow them home,

into their childhood home.

a stick for each time you make a mistake,

and broken glass from whence you feel the hate.

abuse, abuse, what a beautiful word.

abuse, abuse, what a beautiful world.

my friend, it is not a matter of 

"growing up"

it is a matter of learning how to be a child

learning how to live

in order that you may at last be born