"When I was young..."
She whispers.
Another nods.
A knowing passes
Between.
A silence falls.
How many have
Tucked their childhoods
Into their back pockets,
Ashamed they may
Become known?
Foodstamps, free lunch,
No bed to call their own.
A dead parent.
A drunk parent.
A damned parent. 
Still they hold the blame.
They hold the shame.
As if it is warranted,
As if they earned it,
As if the parent's failings
Defines the child's worth.