When I was five
My father told me
Not to touch
The fiberglass insulation
Naturally
I didn’t listen
When I told my dad
That I rolled around
In that pink foam
He did not yell
Or get angry
He simply said
“Now you know”

When I was ten
My father told me
Not to go out
On the frozen lake
Naturally
I didn’t listen
When I told my dad
That I got stuck
Alone on that lake
He did not yell
Or get angry
He simply said
“Now you know”

When I was fifteen
My father told me
Not to give away
My heart so young
Naturally
I didn’t listen
When I told my dad
That I let my heart
Be hurt by a boy
He did not yell
Or get angry
He held me tight
But did not say
“Now you know”

The problem is
You can’t unbreak a heart
The way you wash
Off the fiberglass
The way you can climb
Out of a frozen lake
Some things
You can only learn from experience
Some things
You can only be learned once