Oh, the times I’ve been asked, “What happened to you?”
And each time I get asked, I feel something new,
My voice gets all quiet, my shoulders sink low,
And I search for the words that don’t quite want to go.

I’ve lived this way now for so many years,
But each time I explain, I feel whispers of fears,
As if telling the story makes me stand out and shrink,
Under a spotlight that makes my heart sink.