the flower under the shadow of fear

that is not said
that is not done
 
because with what you said
     you hurt
with what you did you harm
you cut, you tear, you mutilate
you cause damage
then you leave and
     you leave smiling
        crossing the street
        turning the corner
you leave
     following your destiny
you leave flying towards your sky
     to which she doesn’t belong
while here
what you said
what you did
with intention or not
stay with her
she is left in despair
        crying
suffering the pain of the wounds
you provoked 
for no reason at all

to you
who says and does
those things are easily forgotten
you live in your world
      with a reality
to which she doesn’t belong
instead, here
she is left crying
she is left wishing
        someday to be able to forget
asking time
        to be benevolent and
soon her wounds to heal
although the scars
        may fade
the pain caused by abuse
        remains
the pain of lovelessness is still felt
       under the skin and
she, the fragile flower
is left
among the shadows of fear and
        insecurity
wondering why
        without finding answers
why?
why to her?
how is it possible
         that someone like you
with your voice and
         with your hands
capable of giving kindness
capable of doing beautiful things
is also capable of
         so much cruelty

and
I, barely a sprout
helpless witness who still has no voice
when I see her crying
I also suffer her pain and
between my mind and my heart
like church bells
the echo sounds
       that is not said
       that is not done
because they hurt