Don’t Test Me

They sit here. Quiet. They do not need your pressure. Your stress. Silencing them into tears and a lead weight resting in the pit of their stomachs. They are here for their “now” and their “to be”. They are being tested.

They laugh. They gasp. They are tired. Some of them are not here. They are hospitalized. Some of them are not here. They are scared. Some of them are not here, but the ones who are…my goodness is the potential and capability palpable. But they don’t believe it.

They’ve been aching for freedom. For respect. For someone to listen to them and hear what they are saying. Where have you been? What, with this new fear of children? Of which, you used to be, so unruly and obscene.

They laugh. They breath. They finish. They worry about their future. They wonder what “future” even means and yet they look forward. They ask questions left unanswered by the shamed and afraid. They will figure it out. They just don’t want to do it alone.

2 responses to “Don’t Test Me”

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