Still Recovering

For so long I'd held it all inside.
I fought so long.  I cried.

When did I grow up?
Why was I not told?
It's like I woke up one day and said:
"I'm three days older than three days before,
and I refuse to be a child anymore."

No one told me she almost died; she tried.
No one told me she almost succeeded at suicide.
And now I know.
She hasn't mentioned it
but I know.

And when I listen to her talk, I wonder where I'd be
if no one had walked in and found her lying there.

I wonder what pills she had or what drinks she slammed.
And I wonder if she thought of me when she spent two months in recovery.
I wonder why no one told me.
Or why I didn't wonder for those two months
why she didn't call.

No one told me,
but I know.
It doesn't show,
but I know.
I've got a lot left to live,
to give.
I'm not that child I once was and never will be.

I smile until my lips crack.
I want my childhood back.
But, I wonder where I'd be
if no one had told me.