I can strap you with a utility belt,
arm you with karate classes,
teach you 20 different chokeholds
(or, at least, find YouTube videos)
to protect you from the dangers
of monsters and
knife-wielding psychos
out there.

But I can’t protect you from
your genes,
the family history we don’t know,
the emotions that come from
being a teenager,
feeling like your parents don’t understand,
couldn’t ever understand,
and not having a tool on that belt
to protect you from all the barbs,
all the thorns and hidden shrapnel
that seek to rupture and slice you 
from within.