Hush, don't cry. Its all over now.
Rough hands never will hold your skin.
Baby eyes will not now scream.
Your soft sweet arms are free.
You weep into the grass and grow
All anyone sees is wrath
And you spent your life proving to yourself
You're not the weakling you thought.
Glory and peace come weighty.
Too late you knew the price.
Your mouth contorted in anguish.
You dared not make a sound.
What are Spartan boys made for?
To fall into the ground.
Hurt, hurt, so bad the hurt.
You're not the warrior you ought.
Something is wrong with you.
You will soon lie in the dirt.
Hush, hush, don't cry now.
You're a child once again.
And its all over now, sweet innocent.
It was over so long ago.
"As long as the child within is not allowed to become aware of what happened to him or her, a part of his or her emotional life will remain frozen . . . all appeals to love, solidarity, and compassion will be useless."
-- Alice Miller