Calling to the name that no one seems to hear often.
Calling to help those included in such drastic situation.
But who?
Why didn't anyone call me when I needed just as much help?
Who called me when I was trying to hear someones name?
I want to be heard but no one ever really calls...
No one wants to listen.
Were all so caught up in our own minds, we can't tell what's happening around us.
When I need something, or someone the most they do is close to nothing..
Who ever really called?
Called out to me, me calling out to them, is this my cry for help?
Or am I just alone like I've always been.
No one ever really knows what I'm feeling except for my journal.
How can I change?
Do I need to change?
How do I call for help...
It's far too late.
Is this my call for help?
Are you even listening?
Would you even hear the ring in your pocket if I tried?
Who... called?
YOU ARE READING
She Wrote
PoetryThey Listened. Just poetry to keep me and yourselves occupied until I publish 'Fate of Hell'. And yes, if you've been here for over a year or more, you'll see some old poetry I wrote, but just rewritten into a much better,,, way? Thanks for reading!
