Even with the beige blinds drawn,
I can still peek in to see you.
Yes, through those tiny little holes,
I can watch you change your skin.
And I know you expect privacy.
(That’s why you closed the blinds.)
But those itty bitty holes
call like a million children’s screams.
Besides, what would you have me do?
Let the little children suffer?
Let you live with the illusion
that when you change, you change alone?