SM-Support

Daddy hits me, and mommy yells. I run out the front door, all the way to the harbour. I sit, swinging my feet, watching my reflection in the stormy water. Life is beautiful. I go to school, I sit in silence. "What's wrong, why won't you talk?" I wish I could respond. Late at night, I sit up and watch the stars dance. I can't fall asleep, as much as I'd like to. So I sit. And think. And dream and plan and live. I live, if only in my thoughts.

It is not the owner's choice To sit still without a voice. He wants to speak, She's on the brink, But all they can do is withdraw. Would you stop asking Why I am not talking? It's too broad to respond. Can't we just move on To something more comfortable? Just leave me alone So I can go home, Home to my room And sit in my gloom As I watch the passing storm. Selective mutism is not my choice Or his, or hers, to lose our voice. We try for hours to speak And when we're on the brink, We can't pass the barrier we created. If we're more comfortable, Words come out in a jumble, Hastily written off our chests So maybe you'd give

"Come on, Myra!" Myra raises her eyes to her friend who had just walked into the old barn. Its walls are concave from the ancient weight of its decaying grey roof. Her parents had always said not to go into the old barn. They said it was dangerous. "I'll meet you on the other side!" Myra shouts, wanting to wander around the timeworn structure. Her bare feet push down on dandelions and the high grasses that haven't been touched by anything but winds in the decades that have passed. She loves the way they stain her feet a brownish jade color. The ground is still damp from last nights rain showers that caused the ground to shift and change,