Ephemeral Flash Fictions

when will they

When Will They?

ps : lower case intended

the clock may strike midnight,
even if it is dawn,
i will always find myself in fright.
scared, scarred and down.

silence may give comfort to someone,
it will always give me madness.
it kills me deep within.
no savior behind the doors.

i will always be locked up,
bruised and most of all afraid.
the world has gone cruel for my own sanity.

it made me lose myself,
in the process of saving me.
a call for help, doesn't have voice,
but mere desperation for freedom.

if heroes do wear capes,
why do mine turned shattered glass?
if comfort is really refreshing,
why am i blood bathing?

the world has billions of humans,
i am one of thousands,
yet why can't anyone hear my pleas?
are they deaf or they're just blind?

what i need is help,
not isolation; neither yelp.
comfort is what i seek,
not medicines that reek.

if it's indeed a help,
why do i keep on slipping away?
why did the rope disappear,
when i was going to get pulled up?

when will someone hear,
the plea of those insane?
when will they be freed,
from everyone's greed?