And the sirens cry loudly. I’m reflexive. I cry loudly. You put my picture in framing. Hung forever, left me strangling. Called me baby. And with your nature reversed and our home as our cage, you caved and you asked “is this coming of age?” As you climbed out the window, your face cold as stone, you lifted the towel. Your wrist showed the bone. Held my breath in the ER, I swayed as I stood. I tried to stay steady and protect you the best that I could. And you pretended to sleep the entire ride home but I heard you crying when you felt alone.