Back Then, She Lied

Back then, she smiled;

the smile that of a child’s.

She knew what that smile implied.

Back then, she lied.

Back then, she laughed;

the laugh so believably choreographed.

I knew how hard she must have tried.

Back then, she lied.

Back then, she was fine;

always fine, and her problems benign.

She knew how much easier it was to hide.

Back then, she lied.

Today, she frowns;

her frown from her emotional breakdowns.

She knows her frown is unspoken.

Today, she’s broken.

Today, she cries;

her cry, many a fallen tear dries.

I know how much she wants to reawaken.

Today, she’s breaking.

Today, she’s silent;

always silent, but her problems are violent.

She knows how much easier it would be to choke.

Today, she broke.

Back then, no one saw

how the girl broke her jaw.

Back then, no one would admit

her loving father was a hypocrite.

Back then, when her father got drunk and bitter,

when she got hungry so he hit her,

not one human being was infuriated

because not one human being investigated.

Today, she cannot take the torment overflow.

Back then, big hands pushed her through the second story window.

Today, she died and I realized,

back then, she lied.