I don't know how to say it out loud, so I'll write it for you.  I'll let my pen fly, for you to read.  My words will strangle me to my grave.  Hopefully you'll loosen this noose and let me catch a breath.  Did you hear about the boy down the street, the one who would swing in the yard and draw on the concrete with chalk?  The world turned him into a man at age nine, when his mother was robbed from him.  Save him too.