Does someone know what I do? Do they care what I go through?
Someone should know how I look, if someone really care they would stare.
Stare into my eyes and discover who I really am and hug me hard.
I want a shoulder to cry on, I want a remedy to my broken heart.
But all they do is blaming me and show me that I am no worth.
They keep on pointing their finger at me but what they will do if they knew.
Will they stop? Will they pity? Or will they still laugh at me?
YOU ARE READING
Behind the calm
PoetryI am dedicating this to the hurts and to everyone that read it.
