Who would you save ?

I keep quiet and act grateful after all I live in London. "You don't appreciate what you have," they tell me. All I hear is what I don't. What about what I do? What about being a mom to your mom when you're 9? What about sobbing along on a flight of stairs because no one would believe your cousin did that to you? What about the marks my dad left on my body, they didn't scar, did they? I suppose they did. What about the 15-year-old child who needed her best friend but felt abandoned? What about the boy you trusted who cheated you off of your teenage youth and scraped a wound so deep only he knew how to seal it loose enough to prick on it again but close enough to trick me into thinking he meant well? I have played such roles without my consent forced to grow up without my consent. As a 24-year-old I sit awake at 3 am, dwell on this thought with me please, who would you save if you had the choice, the 9-year-old, the 15 or the 18-year-old? It seems the 24-year-old couldn't save any. So, she slowly accepts the slow doom of life. I can't save you, but I hope someday someone does.

All I ask of you gentle reader, your inner child might scream to you but remember 24 of 40 or 60, we are all 9 sometime, somewhere so if you have the chance and if they call to you, save them.